Maybe I Should Cry For Help
by redhusk
Summary: Sterek; Season 2 AU: magic, Peter/Stiles connection, no kanima. Things are supposed to be calming down now, considering that Peter's dead. And yet for some reason everything seems worse than ever.
1. Get Me Drunk and I'll Bare My Soul

**A/N: **starts after the events of s1; my altered version of s2, some events will remain, a lot is changed - no kanima, jackson will be a wolf straight away, lydia isn't the one to bring back peter and sheriff stilinski will know about werewolves. also, magic.

_i just realised after re-reading some of this that there's one thing that might annoy a lot of you. i've seen people attacking other authors because of briticisms, and i have to clarify: i'm not a native english speaker. i've studied it both at school as well as independently for over ten years now, but i've been affected by both american as well as british english which is why this story might be filled with both. most of the time, i can't even tell the difference. i apologise. i would get a beta, but i'd rather not at this stage. i'm one of those people who needs a person she knows/trusts to fix her work like that, i can't bring myself to just ask a random person online. sounds ridiculous, but it's how i am._

* * *

Get Me Drunk and I'll Bare My Soul

* * *

Stiles never does this. He's smart enough to never ever do this. But considering the traumatising events of the past few days, he thinks he's entitled to a bit of a breakdown. And if it involves getting drunk on his dad's whiskey, so what? About half-way through his fourth glass he hazily considers the possibility that this was a shitty idea, due to the fact that his dad, the Sheriff, has no clue about the horrors his son has faced and Stiles can't really explain this either so when he comes home he's going to find his son, drunk off his ass, on a school night for no apparent reason and yes, during his fifth glass Stiles thinks of stopping-

But the fear is gone. The alcohol has created a lovely buzzing sound in his head that seems to be muffling out everything else - Peter's voice_(Yes or no?)_, the faint memory of the Alpha's breath against his cheek, the faint pain of the bruises on his arms left by the man who now stars in his nightmares. Stiles thinks he should maybe tell someone about this. It's called a sexual assault, right? So perhaps he needs therapy, needs to talk about his feelings... Except how is he supposed to explain that he was offered a bite from a werewolf which would have made _him_ a werewolf as well and the man who offered it kind of molested him and Stiles was lying when he said 'no' because he does want it, so- _so_much-

"What the hell is this, Stiles!?"

And oh. Dad's home.

"Yes, _dad_'s home and what do you think you're doing!?"

He has never heard such anger and frustration coming from his father, and in his inebriated state he can't help but flinch and tense up in fear. His breathing quickens and he curses, because he was feeling so good and calm just a few seconds ago and now he's feeling the oncome of a panic attack and his dad doesn't deserve this - a stupid, drunk son who is now hyperventilating because he _can't seem to breathe_.

"Stiles, _Stiles_! Jesus Christ, son. Breathe, c'mon calm down, Stiles, look at me. _Look at me_!"

He's looking up then and his dad's worried, so terribly worried and he feels guilty all of a sudden, "I'm so sorry," he gasps out and then he's crying which is such a wimpy thing to do but he can't stop and he's honest to God sobbing and he doesn't think he's ever been this drunk and out of control which is scary and he swears he'll never drink again- he's actually swearing this into his dad's shoulder, 'cause the man's hugging him. _Hugging_ him . Like he still loves Stiles, still cares, even though he's such a fuck-up of a son who keeps lying to him, keeps getting into trouble, who has panic attacks and who can't shut his mouth-

"No, no, Stiles. _Jesus_, son, of course I love you and you're not a fuck-up, I'd never think that of you. You're my son, Stiles. I'll always love you."

And then he hears it - his own voice. He's spilling out everything that's running through his mind, all of it gets choked out between gut-wrenching sobs without any kind of filtering and this is getting dangerous because he's thinking of _him_ and his dad can never know about that, no one can ever know about Peter.

"I keep lying to you- a-and I can't stop because Scott needs me, he does, he wouldn't survive w-without me, but I hate lying to you, d-dad and I hate feeling like I keep putting you in danger because of all this crap we're going through and-and everything is so messed up now, everything is so fucked up, I just wanted to not be scared for a while, I-I just wanted to..." He can breathe. He feels his father's hands stroking his head and his back and he can breathe. He's safe, he's with his dad, he's safe.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, sniffing one last time, finally able to stop the floodgates.

"It's okay." He pauses awkwardly, patting Stiles gently on the head and then pushing away so he can sternly look him in the eye, "Well, I would really prefer if you'd keep your hands off my whiskey in the future, but it's okay, Stiles." He smiles to show he means it and Stiles nods, knowing he's probably in for a quite a lecture and a lot of questions about what he just said but he'll deal with that in the morning. Right now he really longs for his bed.

The Sheriff rises from the couch they've been sitting on and holds out a hand to his son. "We'll talk about all of this in the morning, when you're sober. Right now you need some water and sleep. You're also going to school tomorrow, I don't care how big of a hangover you have."

He nods and gets up reluctantly, swaying unsteadily before his dad grabs him by the arm and helps him to the kitchen. Stiles drinks a whole glass of water before the other is satisfied and lets his dad drag him upstairs.

"Change your clothes and I'll get you some painkillers for the morning."

He nods, staggering towards his drawers to grab a T-shirt and some shorts to sleep in. When his father comes back, he's struggling with removing his shirt, bumping into sharp corners and muttering, "Ow... Ow... Ow..."

He hears his father sighing before there are gentle yet firm hands controlling his limbs and getting him out of the death-trap he got himself into. When he's finally shirtless, the light from the hallway lights up his skin and he hears his dad take a sharp intake of breath.

"Stiles," the man's voice is deadly calm and the boy apprehensively tries to focus on the other's face to show that he's listening, "Where did you get those bruises? Who hurt you, son?"

No, _no_, nobody was supposed to see those. He tries to cover them, but knows it's too late for that now.

"You don't have to hide them, son. Just tell me, please. What's going on? Is someone bullying you at school? Did you and Scott get into trouble with someone?"

He shakes his head desperately, "No, dad. I-I fell..."

The Sheriff has to grit his teeth to keep himself from yelling. "You're usually a lot more creative than that."

"Please, I just want to sleep," his voice is weak and he feels so young and stupid right now. The alcohol is still buzzing but everything else has also come back and he's slowly realizing just how much he's fucked up again and he doesn't want to, not yet. He wants to pass out and prolong the arrival of the hollow feeling of having disappointed his dad again.

"Fine, Stiles," his dad says roughly, gesturing towards the bed. "Sleep. But tomorrow we're having this discussion and you're telling me everything."

He winces at the sharp words, nodding quickly. He heaves a relieved sigh when he's finally alone again and climbs into his bed, burying himself under the sheets.

Stiles hopes he doesn't dream.

* * *

_There is a shape of a man in every corner of every room he runs into. He runs, and runs until he finds himself in the Hale house, only this is what it used to look like. Before the fire. Stiles knows this, doesn't wonder how or why, can only focus on the person standing there, in the middle of the living room, back towards the boy. When the man turns around and smiles, "You must be Stiles-"_

Stiles wakes up with a shout.

* * *

Sheriff Stilinski keeps his eyes on his son as the teenager goes through his regular breakfast motions. They've only exchanged soft, awkward 'good mornings' so far but he's running out of patience. He doesn't want to pressure Stiles, doesn't want to force him to talk if he's not ready, but those bruises... They looked like someone had grabbed the other, gripped him tight to either drag him somewhere or... hold him down. And he can't go there. He can't think of his son getting hurt like that, can't bear it.

But he also needs to know. He needs to know who hurt his son. He needs to know who he has to arrest, who he has to hurt in return.

"Stiles," he begins and frowns sadly as the boy flinches slightly, "We need to talk about last night."

Stiles takes his last bite of cereal before nodding nervously.

"I need you to tell me how you got those bruises, Stiles. And what was all that talk about you and Scott and 'all the crap you go through' and putting me in danger and lying to me?"

The boy makes a face that for a second makes the Sheriff almost smile because it's so _Stiles _; it's the face his son has made every time he realises he's actually in trouble with his dad.

"I... I'm sorry, dad, but I can't tell you the full story. Not yet."

"Excuse me?" He asks, because seriously? "You live under my roof, I'm your father _and _I'm the Sheriff... If you and Scott are in trouble, you need to tell me, son."

But Stiles shakes his head, staring back with a fierce determination that frustrates his father, "There are so many secrets in this town, dad... And none of them are mine to tell... Especially to you. I can... I can tell you about the bruises, but I can't say anything about the other stuff because- because I can't just betray my friends like that."

"Your friends? So is Scott the one in trouble? Are you protecting him?"

Stiles makes a noise in disagreement, "No! We're both in this mess together, it's... All I can say is that it's got something to do with the murders-"

"What!?"

"Dad-"

He rises from behind the table, angry, "I've told you this so many times, Stiles - stay out of police business, do not go around doing detective work, you're _sixteen _and in no way qualified-"

"People were dying! I found out something, something I knew you wouldn't believe and I had to take care of it on my own!" Now Stiles is also standing and his father looks weary. "Not on my own, exactly..." Stiles continues, "Me and my friends... and yes, Scott is included there, we... w e worked it out. We ended the killings, the animal attacks that weren't done by an actual animal."

He laughs harshly, "What? You're saying you caught the killer? Where is he then? Who was it?"

Stiles hesitates, closing his eyes and frowning in frustration, "We didn't... We didn't catch him. We..."

He feels dread pooling in his stomach, "Son... did you kill him? Did you kill someone?"

"No!" He shouts before his shoulders slump in defeat, "But I was there. I helped. A... A friend of mine did it..."

"Who was it, Stiles? Who was the killer?"

"You're not going to believe me, even if I tell you-"

"I've had enough of this crap, Stiles! You can't expect me to listen to this and be _okay _with it! You can't expect me to be satisfied with you dodging all the important questions, I can't_ take care_ of you if you don't tell me what's going on in your life!"

"...It was Peter Hale."

He pauses, before sighing. He rests his hands on his hips and shakes his head, "It couldn't possibly have been Peter Hale, Stiles."

"He went missing from the hospital, didn't he? And you have no clue where he is or how he got out of there, right?"

"Due to the murder of his nurse, someone most likely took him-"

"Why would anyone take him out of there? If he's as disabled as you think he is, why didn't they just kill him at the hospital? What else could they use Peter for? The man couldn't even talk!"

"Exactly! He couldn't even talk! So how did he get out of there by himself!? He was in the hospital to begin with when the killings first started!"

"Because he's-" Stiles breaks off, eyes wide. "I can't tell you, I'm sorry. You have to believe me, dad."

"This one of those secrets you can't share?"

"I- You just have to trust me on this. Peter was the one. He was also the one who..."

He takes in the twitching, the closed eyes and the embarrassed flush on his son's cheeks.

"He was the one who gave you those bruises?"

"...Yeah."

He drags a hand over his face, sighing in disbelief, "Did he... Did he do more than just bruise your arms?"

Stiles's eyes fly open as he starts flailing about, "No! Really, he didn't do anything much, I mean yeah there was some bad touching, but it didn't get far, the bruises are mostly from him dragging me around and finally when I gave him what he wanted, he let me go-"

"Gave him what he wanted?"

The boy takes in his dad's look of outrage and backtracks, "No it wasn't-" He slaps himself in the forehead because this is not going how he hoped it would, "He wanted my help with tracking someone's location. And because he was terrifying enough, I did what he asked."

The Sheriff feels a bit lost, angry at his son, angry at the person who hurt his son (still not fully ready to believe that the disabled Peter Hale magically cured himself and secretly killed all those people in revenge for the fire, while still pretending to be disable d, because that sounds ludicrous), frustrated that Stiles has secrets he needs to hide, again angry; angry that his son's friends most likely dragged him into this mess-

"Was Derek Hale in on this? If it was indeed his uncle, then I imagine he'd have something to do with this. Not to mention the killer- _Peter _was after the people who were responsible for the fire. And Kate Argent was found in the Hale house. There are no real evidences pointing towards Derek, but I always had my suspicions about him."

Stiles suddenly looks sickly pale as he cringes, " Aw , fuck." He winces at his dad's glare, "I mean, gosh darn it. Listen, Derek is actually... well, not a _good guy_ but definitely not the person you think he is. He's... Well. He helped me and Scott, actually."

"Derek's one of your friends now, is he!?"

"No! Not... Not exactly!"

"God damn it, Stiles! What am I supposed to do with all of this? What am I supposed to tell my co-workers, the relatives of the victims, the people of this town, who all want answers!?"

" I-I don't know, okay ? You asked, you wanted to know, so I'm telling you."

"I need to know the full story, Stiles. All of it. From the very beginning."

"I told you, I can't-"

"Then go to school."

Stiles flinches as his dad brushes against the chair, causing it to clatter against the table, while heading towards the door. The Sheriff grabs his keys and his jacket and pauses.

"Just... go to school. I need to think about this. We'll talk more when I get home from work."

And then Stiles is alone in the kitchen, worrying if he just screwed up so royally that no one's ever going to forgive him. He groans as he realises he really does need to get to school, or he's going to be late. He hopes Scott has enough time outside of his teenage drama with Allison to hear him out. Stiles needs Scott's permission to tell his dad everything.

And oh yeah. He needs Derek's permission, too.

He really wishes he had just left that bottle of whiskey alone.

Never, ever getting drunk again.

_Ever_.

* * *

tbc.


	2. Buy Me Lunch and I'll Reveal My Secrets

Buy Me Lunch and I'll Reveal My Secrets

* * *

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this. But for all he knows, his son's life was in danger, might still be in danger and Derek Hale has something to do with it. Derek Hale, who is six years older than Stiles, who buried half of his own sister in his yard. Derek Hale, who apparently lives in this shell of a house.

He sees the familiar black Camaro parked in the driveway and figures the kid's home. With a heavy sigh, he rests a hand on his gun, still in the holster and walks up the steps to the front door. He sees no electricity being used in the house, wonders if there even is any as he remembers the state of it inside, when they recovered Kate Argent's body; wonders further why a young man like Derek Hale would be living here unless he was as mentally unstable as he fears, which leads him to question his son's reasons for hanging around this guy. Before he gets any further with that trail of thought, the door opens. Without the Sheriff having even knocked.

Derek looks as stone-faced and dangerous as ever, but he's here because of Stiles which means he doesn't have the patience for the other's usual attitude.

"What can I do for-"

He's usually polite, he never gets physical with suspects or during arrests unless it's absolutely necessary. But who else would bring this protective side out of him, if not his own son? Derek is a big guy which is why he suspects that the kid is _letting _the Sheriff manhandle him. Which shows respect. Which makes him like the young man ... just a little bit.

He has Derek pulled out of the house and pressed up against the wall next to the doorway. The kid's expression doesn't change except for a quick flicker of surprise before he goes rigid and _glares_.

"Now listen to me, Hale. My son got stupid drunk last night and accidentally shared something with me," better to blame it all on the alcohol in case Derek feels the need to punish Stiles for saying anything about him to his father, "The biggest problem I have right now is the fact that he believes that _your uncle_ was behind the murders, that one of his friends killed Peter and the worst of it all - that for some reason the bruises on my son's skin were put there by Peter _goddamn_ Hale when he used Stiles to track someone. With me so far?"

Derek's face remains unchanged but there is a slight tick to his jaw before he nods curtly.

"I want you to tell me everything that's been going on because my son refuses outright to betray his friends, to tell me _their _secrets." He backs off, pulling away from the kid and releasing his grip on the man's leather jacket. "My son shouldn't be in this mess, shouldn't have anything to do with you or the murders and yet here I am, asking you to explain." He places his hand back on his gun. Derek's eyes follow the movement before meeting the Sheriff's determined gaze once more.

"So are you going to cooperate?"

And then Derek's looking away once before nodding, eyebrows raised. He steps away from the wall, shrugging casually and smirking at him in a way that causes the Sheriff's fingers to spasm on his gun.

"How about I tell you over lunch?"

"Excuse me?"

Derek shrugs again and makes this odd face with pursed lips and eyebrows so high that it looks painful; seeming to say '_This is all you're getting_.'

He can feel a headache coming on and for one quick moment wonders how Stiles is doing. The kid didn't look like he had a hangover during breakfast but after last night he realised that his son is probably better at acting fine than he thought he was.

"Let me guess, I'm paying?"

Derek's grin can easily be described as wolfish.

* * *

Fortunately he isn't late, he even has five minutes to spare. Unfortunately he feels a lot like throwing up after he sits down behind Scott, because drinking five glasses of whiskey on an empty stomach and then eating a bowl of cereal with chocolate milk was obviously the stupidest idea he's ever had. He feels light-headed and sweaty and there is a familiar acid ic taste in his mouth, one usually gets right before puking their guts out. Stiles forces it down, though. And feels even worse.

"Hey, you okay? You're too pale, man."

He shakes his head at Scott, forcing a grin, "Fine, just didn't sleep much. Had a raid last night." At that he gets an incredulous look, which he understands because neither of them has spent any time playing _World of Warcraft_ since Scott got turned into a werewolf - and with good reason. But hey, it's a good excuse and Stiles is sticking to it.

Finally, Scott rolls his eyes and turns back in his seat. Stiles jiggles his legs before poking his friend with a pen.

"Yeah?" Scott just leans over to the side, all cool and graceful and Stiles is suddenly struck dumb by the fantasy of _him _being like that, of _him _being a werewolf...

_You'd make a much better werewolf than Scott._

He shakes away the voice, the _memory _with some difficulty, for a moment he could have sworn he was back in that parking lot, pressed against the side of his Jeep and Peter was right there with him, smiling at him in a way that made him feel both incredibly freaked out and _wanted_.

But no, he shouldn't be thinking about that. Ever again.

"I need to talk to you later; I need your permission to tell my dad. Also, your help because he's not exactly going to believe me unless I have a willing werewolf there, showing off his sideburns to him."

Scott jerks around, wide-eyed, "What?" He hisses, "Why do you want to tell your dad?"

The bell rings and the teacher enters, stupidly punctual as usual. Stiles, not really wanting to get detention again, makes a shooing motion with his hands and says, "I'll explain later. Just don't run off to meet with you-know-who and we'll talk."

The other boy nods stiffly and they both direct their attention towards the blackboard that is already being covered with the teacher's chicken scratch.

* * *

Their waitress is blushing. Derek is glaring at her and she's still acting like a schoolgirl with a crush and Sheriff Stilinski really doesn't understand women and their obsession with bad boys. Perhaps he'd get it if Derek was bad and _charming_. As Derek continues to glare until she clears her throat awkwardly and runs off to get their order, he thinks no, he really doesn't get it. He sees the waitress peek out from the kitchen with a co-worker and they point and giggle and the sheriff sighs, feeling old-fashioned. Or perhaps just _old_.

"So how about you start with your uncle. Was Stiles telling the truth?"

Derek shifts in his seat, face giving away no hint of emotion or reaction, "Yes."

He gapes for a bit, because even though it's good to hear your son is not crazy or hallucinating, there's still the question of-

"How? How could he have-"

"Let me start from the beginning."

He nods, gesturing the other to go ahead. He frowns in apprehension when Derek suddenly leans forward, his intense glare now too close for comfort.

"Understand this, I'm risking a lot by telling you all of this. Which is why I'm not doing it for free."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "What do you want in return, then?"

Derek leans back, "A favor."

"A _favor_?"

"I'll explain the details after, when you're not freaking out anymore."

"Freaking out?" He's this close to getting physical again because Derek Hale is _annoyingly _confusing right now.

"Here's your coffee, Sheriff. Your food will be ready soon, as well, sir."

The Sheriff thanks her kindly, taking a sip of his coffee and watching as Derek refuses to acknowledge the young woman so desperate for his attention. She finally gives up and leaves, dejected. He shakes his head, bemused. _What an asshole_.

"All of this begins with my family."

"Hmm?" Oh, so Derek's actually talking now. Progress.

"This town and the woods around it are Hale Pack territory, have been for decades."

"Pack?"

"Yes."

He straightens, letting his frustration show, hoping the other will take the hint. After a moment of silence, he shakes his head in disbelief and asks, "Pack of what, exactly?"

"Werewolves."

No hesitation. No hint of a smirk or a smile. And nothing but silence follows that reply.

The Sheriff covers his face with his hands for a second, wondering if this was all a prank and if so he's going to ground his son until he leaves for college- but no, that doesn't explain the bruises.

"Fine, if you're not going to give me something to work with here, I'll go and speak to someone else from your little group."

He's pulling out his wallet to pay for his coffee, and _only _for his coffee when there's suddenly a hand grabbing his wrist and keeping him still. And there are claws... He looks up so quickly he hears a sickening popping sound coming from his neck and there sits Derek, calm and angry as always except the fangs flashing at him from the other's open mouth and-

"Jesus," he whispers as the kid's eyes turn _red_. The clawed hand is drawn away slowly and one of Derek's eyebrows quirks up, ' _Believe me now_? '

He breaks their staring contest, coughing because he just choked on air and it takes him a few minutes (and his whole cup of coffee) to calm down enough to look up and he takes in a sharp breath because Derek looks normal again, except for the eyes - they're still a bright red that's glaring at the man, almost screaming into his head ' werewolves, werewolves, _WEREWOLVES_'

Sheriff Stilinski takes a deep breath and tells himself to get over that revelation because he suddenly fears that werewolves are just the tip of the iceberg.

"Alright. Werewolves. The Hale Pack. Continue."

Derek relaxes a little and nods, continuing his story.

About half-way through he regrets ever having asked.

* * *

"What do you mean you accidentally told your father about Peter? How is that even possible!?"

Stiles shrugs, for a second considering telling the truth but that would mean explaining about Peter and he really doesn't want anyone to find out about that, because it would be embarrassing and then Scott would look at him with his big puppy eyes and he'd a sk him if he was okay every day for the next couple of weeks and-. No. Stiles doesn't want to deal with that.

"I forgot to take Adderall. "

"Oh."

Scott looks kind of guilty now and Stiles feels a sick rush of pleasure at that thought, which- _what_?

"So, can't you blame it on that? Tell your dad that you were making stuff up, just ranting out random theories?"

"...Not gonna work, dude. Not this time."

Scott sighs, dragging a hand through his head, messing it up in frustration.

"Look, why can't we just tell him? Our parents are going to have to know at some point, how long can we keep up this sneaking around, how long before my dad finds us at a crime scene and _we _become the suspects, huh!?" He flinches when Scott turns around and violently opens his locker. They get looks from the other students in the hallway but Stiles makes a face at them and gestures with both hands as the universal, '_what are you looking at_?' and they quickly stop staring. He licks his lower lip, agitated and twitchy as he turns to his best friend who is _so not working with him right now_.

"I can't keep lying to my dad, Scott." Stiles wets his lips and shakes his head, hands on his hips, "I can't."

Scott's still facing his locker and he looks... sad, which, _really_? Stiles is the one with the problem at the moment.

"I'm sorry, I just... what if he tells my mom ? What if he... what if he separates us, wants to keep you safe? I want to keep you safe too, Stiles, but... I can't go through this on my own, man. You're my best friend. I need you. Without you I probably would be dead already."

And okay, that's not fair. That speech plus full-power puppy eyes? Scott's playing dirty, damn it.

"Okay, fair enough. I... I didn't think about the separation thing, but honestly. Do you really think my dad can keep me away from you? He wouldn't even bother trying, he _knows _me!"

Scott does his squinty-eyed thing, which means he's thinking and hey - things seem to be moving forward.

"I don't know, I'd rather not anyone else know about me right now when we don't know what Derek is up to. I mean he took the only chance I had at becoming normal away from me and now he's the Alpha and what if he's a threat? It'll be safer for your dad as well, if he doesn't know."

And two steps back again, "To be fair, Derek said that _might _work. What if it hadn't, what if you had become Alpha instead? Do you think you could have handled it?"

Scott grabs his books for next class and slams his locker shut, drawing everyone's attention to him again.

"For a normal life, I would have risked it!" He hisses.

_The bite is a gift._

Stiles blinks, shaking his head in shock because again, that hadn't been his own voice inside his head. He really hopes this is some kind of hangover symptom or syndrome because the other explanation would be _going insane_, which is not okay.

"Hey, you okay?"

Scott's hand is on his shoulder, grounding him. He realizes he's clutching his head and most likely looking like a total lunatic so he quickly straightens up, blinking rapidly 'cause _when did it get so bright_?

"Uh, yeah. Just... a headache, that's all."

The werewolf shakes his head, scoffing, "You should be sleeping, not gaming at night. No more _WOW_." Scott points a finger at him, shaking him gently before backing away and heading towards- oh no. Allison.

"Scott, wait!"

Fortunately, his friend isn't so gone yet that he hears and sees nothing but Allison, which has happened so many times that it makes Stiles want to pull out his hair, which would be difficult and time consuming considering the length of it.

"My dad? I need to tell him."

Scott frowns, "Please, just... Not yet. Not until we're sure Derek isn't a threat to us."

"But-"

"We'll talk more about this later!" And then he disappears into an empty classroom that Allison just sneakily entered seconds before.

Stiles does a full-body spasm in outrage before slumping against the lockers. He's so ignoring Scott for the rest of the day. Silent treatment usually never works because Stiles _likes _talking, but this time he's frustrated enough he might just end up succeeding holding out until the end of classes and then he's escaping with his Jeep and going home-

Where his dad'll be later tonight and this is all kinds of fucked up. He lets his head fall back against the locker, closing his eyes, feeling so tired all of a sudden. Couldn't Peter fucking Hale have found someone else to molest and abuse? Then all of this wouldn't be happening and Stiles could go on playing Scott's little sidekick and pretending that he wasn't totally jealous of his best friend's life.

_"Do you want the bite?"_

He starts, pushing away from the lockers, looking around in growing horror. The hallway's empty. There were just students here, the bell hasn't rung yet but the hallway is _empty_. The lights start to flicker and that's when Stiles knows that whatever's going to happen next won't be good.

A figure appears at the end of the hall, coming around the corner and he's covered in shadows, the occasional flicker of light showing glimpses of a naked body covered in dirt and blood. Stiles can't see his face but he doesn't have to because he knows who this is. Can feel it inside him, like an alarm was set off in his body. He thinks he should be running or screaming or _something_, but he's just staring. So afraid he's losing his mind, but still just standing there, waiting for death.

Because that's what Peter's offering to him now. _Death_. He knows it just like he knows something else - he suddenly, out of nowhere, knows where Derek buried his uncle's body.

And then the figure has reached him and Peter cocks his head to the side, eyes white and crazed as he lifts a hand to brush his fingers against Stiles' cheek gently.

_"Yes or no?"_

"No."

Peter's smile is wide, his fangs are growing, his eyes are turning red and he laughs,_ "You're lying."_

The transformation is quick, jaws snapping wide and teeth growing even sharper. Stiles has no doubt he's about to get bitten.

He finally screams.

And opens his eyes to a hallway full of students; all staring at him in varying expressions of shock. He's gasping and _oh, hell _there are tears running down his cheeks. He quickly wipes them away, shifts his bag back on his shoulder from where it had slid down during his episode of crazy. He's trying to run away when there's suddenly a body in his way. A body that's shaking with laughter.

"What the hell's wrong with you, freak?"

Of course. Jackson. Just the person that is missing from his life right now. He pushes the other boy and enjoys the look of surprise on the douche-bag's face.

"Fuck off, you dick. So not in the mood for your insecurity issues right now."

In a few seconds he's going to regret saying that.

"What did you say?"

Jackson has a mean right hook. His jaw bursts on fire and he almost falls to the floor as he stumbles back. He groans, flexing his jaw and cursing his mouth because _another _bruise was the last thing he needed. And woah, _woah_, are those golden eyes that Jackson's flashing at him right now? As in, _werewolf_ eyes? Stiles whimpers in disbelief.

"Hey, hey! Stop it, calm down, man!"

He owes Danny a box of candy because Stiles swears Jackson looked ready to _kill _at that moment. But Danny's shout brought him out of it, as did Danny's grip on his arm. The jocks leave the scene and then the bell rings. Some people send him pitying looks, some sneer and some look wary of him.

This is his life now. Great.

Fuck this, he's ditching school for the rest of the day. It's not like his dad can get even angrier after all of this.

He grabs his phone from his pocket to send his dad a text, because he knows the man prefers to hear about his absences from Stiles rather than the school secretary but instead he sees a new message. From his dad.

_Can you leave school early?_

It was sent four minutes ago, right around the time Stiles was having his hallucination - so not thinking about that right now - and Stiles frowns. Either luck is finally on his side or things are about to get even worse.

He calls his dad.

"Yes?"

"Hi, what's this about?"

"Can you or can't you? Do you have any tests?"

Stiles hesitates at the curt reply, "Uh, I can actually... No tests today."

"Then come outside. I'm already here, waiting. I'll have your Jeep brought around later."

And then his dad _hangs up_. Stiles stares at his phone, "What the hell just happened?"

He reaches the exit and when he's outside and sees his dad's car parked in the middle of the school parking lot, he stumbles. Because standing next to the car, with his dad, having a _conversation_, is Derek Hale. His dad looks agitated, Derek looks bored and Stiles is incredibly close to having a heart attack.

"About to get worse then, huh." He mutters to himself, wetting his lips nervously as Derek's head suddenly turns towards him and his dad's head follows the motion. Their expressions are gloomy (from Derek it's no surprise) and dad gestures towards him, motioning for Stiles to get his ass over there.

He has to force his legs to move.

He has his suspicions about what's going on there and he would like nothing more than to run to his Jeep and drive off, out of this town, out of what has now become _his life_.

But because he's disappointed his dad enough for one week, he hangs his head and jogs over there. To his doom.

_Death_.

Stiles shudders. Even worse, the voice is still there.

* * *

tbc.


	3. Tell Me The Truth and We'll Be Okay

Tell Me The Truth and We'll Be Okay

* * *

He sees his father tense up and knows the man has seen the developing bruise on Stiles' chin. The boy sighs and wets his lips, coming to a stop in front of the men just in time for his dad to take a hold of his head and gently yet firmly turn it to the side so he can see the abused skin more clearly.

"Who did this?"

And Stiles is actually good at thinking up probable and believable excuses unless he's, well, _drunk_.

"I walked into Jackson accidentally, he shoved me and I lost my balance, face-planting into a locker." There. That sounds better than '_I had an episode, which means I hallucinated, screamed and cried in front of my fellow students and dared to shove and insult the prince of Beacon Hills, which is why he decided to punch me so hard I saw stars._' And it was definitely better than _'I fell_.'

He hears a huff from Derek and glares at the werewolf. Luckily the man just raises an eyebrow in return, otherwise making no effort to share his knowledge of the fact that Stiles just lied.

The Sheriff sighs and Stiles hates how weary his dad sounds, but focuses on the most important problem at hand, which is - his dad and Derek here, _together_, waiting to take Stiles out of school early.

Wait. _Am I still hallucinating?_

"Are you guys real?" He asks and then immediately regrets it when his dad gives him the usual look which spells out '_Stiles, I don't have time for your quirky way of thinking right now_'. Or at least that's how Stiles reads it. It could also mean '_Please stop talking_'. That's more likely, perhaps.

The Sheriff rolls his eyes and sends a quick look towards Derek, who nods. Stiles' head snaps between the two of them, eyes wide.

"I'll wait in the car. Derek has something to talk to you about." And then he receives a clap on the shoulder, which his dad usually does for comfort- why would he need comfort before talking to Derek? Actually, he knows why. Derek is a surly werewolf- now an Alpha werewolf who has more than once threatened to cause Stiles bodily harm... with his teeth. But his dad doesn't know that.

No, more importantly why does Derek need to talk to Stiles in the first place and why is he doing it here in front of the school with his dad waiting, when he could have just climbed into Stiles' bedroom through the window like he usually does, the creep.

Derek gives him a look. The kind of look that if his dad had seen it, Stiles is sure he wouldn't be leaving him alone with this guy. It's the usual '_Do what I say and you won't get hurt_' glare, which frankly Stiles is getting pretty tired of.

The lurking werewolf pushes away from the sheriff's car and heads back towards the school entrance, stopping just a little before the stairs. Stiles follows obediently because he does indeed want his body to stay intact. At least until he figures out if he's going crazy or if Peter Hale, his molester extraordinaire is actually, seriously haunting him.

He doesn't even know which would suck more. Perhaps the haunting bit. At least there are pills he could take, if Peter is just a hallucination.

"_Stiles_!"

"Huh? Oh- Right." He shakes his head, getting his focus back on the werewolf still alive and currently in front of him, looking as angry as ever.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

Derek presses his lips together and oh no, he's grinding he's teeth, Stiles knows that look-

"Um. Depends on how you define 'anything'?" He laughs weakly, the laughter quickly stuttering to a halt when the other growls softly, "No. Nope. Nothing. Not a word."

"Your father came to my house today."

He doesn't squeak. He doesn't. He makes a noise, but he does not consider 'a squeak' to be the correct description for that sound. But it makes Derek roll his eyes for some reason before continuing.

"Apparently someone was stupid enough to get drunk and spill his guts to the Sheriff."

"To be fair, I had good reasons for getting drunk."

"Oh? And what were they?" And he doesn't like this. Doesn't like how Derek is staring at him with a face that says '_I'm so _very_ interested in your life._' like he's another stupid teenager (which, okay, slightly guilty) who's on his way towards alcoholism because of stupid unimportant childish issues like still being a virgin, considered a loser at school or unable to play his favorite sport because he keeps sucking at it - those are valid issues in Stiles' life but not worth the hangover.

He finds his voice getting stuck in his throat, though, at the thought of telling Derek that ever since the guy's uncle got too handsy with Stiles, he feels a little... off.

So he shrugs, licks his lips and says, "Personal stuff, okay? So what did you tell my dad?" He cringes at the thought of what's coming.

"Everything."

His neck kind of goes limp as his head wobbles. "What?"

"I told the Sheriff everything."

"A-About werewolves?"

"Yes."

"And about your uncle? And you becoming an Alpha?"

"Yes."

"And the Argents? And Scott!?"

"Do you understand the meaning of the word 'everything'?"

"Okay, okay." He holds his hands up and then pauses, his face going slack in horror, "You told him everything."

"And I thought you were the smart one." Derek's smirking and any other time Stiles would have felt a slight thrill at the fact that for once the man is not glaring daggers at him but there's the slight problem of-

"He knows everything I've lied to him about, everything I haven't told him, everything I've _done_- I. Oh crap. No wonder he's pissed."

"When you're through with your little panic attack, how about we get to what I actually came here to say."

Stiles looks up from his hands, where he burrowed his face just moments earlier, surprised, "That wasn't what you came here to say?"

"No. Your dad wants you out."

He nods, makes an 'ah, yes' sound and then starts shaking his head again, "No. Not following."

Dereks sighs like he's in pain and isn't that an insult? _You cause me pain_. Stiles frowns to himself because for some reason that thought actually stings.

"It means he wants me to stay away from you, for you to stay away from werewolves."

Stiles gapes, "B-But Scott!?"

"That's something you have to talk to your father about."

He doesn't like the sound of that.

"Still don't get why you had to come here to tell me to stay away or that you are now going to stay away from me, considering we aren't friends or anything, we barely tolerate each other's presence and most of the time we aren't exactly happy about sharing the same _air_ not to mention the same space-"

"I would have- You don't-"

And _woah_. Derek is stumbling with his words (and looking quite frustrated about it) and Stiles is there to witness it. This day's turning out to be not all that bad.

Finally Derek sighs through his nose, actually it's more like a huff than a sigh, and forces out, "You are useful. I've asked for your help before. You've helped me because of Scott, and I just wanted to make sure that you don't anymore. Just stay out of it. Even if Scott asks for your help."

"Now that's not fair!" He holds out a hand to emphasise how much he doesn't like what he's hearing (the last bit, of course, the first bit was quite nice), "If my best friend asks for my help, then I help. That's what bros do!" He laughs because it's both ridiculous that he's talking about bro-code to Derek and also that Derek most likely has no clue what bro-code is about.

"I've made a deal with your father. I make sure you stay out of werewolf business and he helps me in return. So when Scott asks for your help," he steps closer to Stiles and the boy gulps when he sees a flash of red. For one second he swears Derek's face morphs into Peter's before he blinks and it's still Derek inches away from Stiles, breathing angrily at him. And... Derek's breath smells kind of nice- wait, what. "You. Stay. Out of it. Or I will tear off a limb. With-"

"With your teeth, yeah, yeah, got the memo last time, buddy. Stay out of it, got it. No need to think of any more threats, I know how hard it must be for you to try and keep them original every time, you must have to create like what- five-six new threats daily? Must be stressful..." He steps back nervously, mouth running off because he's nervous, because there's a sickeningly warm feeling in his gut, quite close to the butterflies he usually gets when Lydia's close enough that Stiles can smell the familiar scent of the same shampoo she's been using for two years now - and wow, he just realised how stalkerish that sounds.

Derek's looking at him weirdly. Intensely. But not in an angry way. Stiles sees the other's nostrils move and realises the werewolf's sniffing. He quickly takes a few more steps back, "Are you sniffing me?" He sounds a lot more outraged than he actually is. And the look of disgust he sends the other might be over the top. But seriously, what the hell?

But Derek has an odd smile on his face. It's a little unnerving that the smile looks mean.

Stiles stares for a while because for some reason that smile (besides looking mean) also looks attractive and this is a bad, bad time for a sexuality crisis. Which you know, isn't actually the case because Stiles has been curious for ages. There's a reason he keeps asking Danny if he's attractive to gay guys; it would be nice to know that he has a chance with at least one gender, but this is more like an Alpha sexuality crisis, because Stiles is beginning to see a type. Lydia is a bitch to him, dominating all over him like he's not worthy of existence unless she has need of him. Peter was... Peter was dominating, for sure. And Derek... Derek has some personal space issues. Kind of like his uncle, actually!

Oh God, he has a type. Stiles' eyes widen in horror.

"_Stiles_." Derek's annoyed. Which is understandable since this is twice in less than ten minutes that Stiles has zoned out on him.

He snaps out of it and laughs awkwardly and then gives a jaunty wave, starting to back away, "I'll just leave now. Have to go home to get yelled at. Don't wanna miss out on that." He sounds less confident towards the end, but oh well.

He has just turned away and seen his father sitting behind the wheel, staring at them with an intensity that scares Stiles before Derek calls his name. He turns around, wary.

Derek looks uncomfortable as he asks, "Where did you actually get that bruise from?"

And then Stiles remembers. And marches up to the werewolf who now looks surprised as the teenager furiously pokes him in the chest.

"That's totally your fault!"

"My fault?"

"How stupid do you have to be to think that turning Jackson, of all people, into a werewolf is a good fucking idea!? Did you tell my dad about him too?"

Derek... actually looks ashamed, "I didn't... " He then pulls on his usual 'I don't care because I'm stronger than you' face and looks elsewhere, "He came to me begging for it. I had just become an Alpha and the urge to start forming a pack was too strong."

Stiles backs off a little, "Urge to form a pack, huh?" His voice trails off, 'cause his mind is _going places_. He remembers the teeth grazing the inside of his wrist, startles at the elation the thought of becoming a werewolf brings.

"If you're thinking about asking for the bite, I can tell you that the urge has worn off enough that I'll be able to say '_hell no_'."

And _ouch_. That hurts. "Peter thought I'd make a great werewolf," he mutters.

Derek's eyes flash red for a second before he frowns and growls out, "You're supposed to stay out of werewolf business, remember? I think becoming a werewolf can be filed under werewolf business."

Stiles flaps his arms around a little, because he always reacts physically when he's frustrated and he's beyond frustrated at the moment. He finally settles on saying, "Then tell your puppy to stop using me as a punching bag and I'll stay out of your pack business, deal?"

"... Deal."

Since when does he find growling sexy, anyway? Stiles flushes from both arousal and embarrassment at said arousal and when he sees Derek's lips twitching he hopes to God it has nothing to do with the fact that the dude's subtly sniffing the air again... it totally does though, because otherwise this wouldn't be Stiles' life.

"I'm just... going to..." He points at his dad's car and then quickly flees the scene. If Derek could really smell Stiles' attraction, then staying away from him (and werewolves altogether) is sounding pretty good right now.

He ignores his dad's weird, intense stares during the car ride home in favor of panicking internally, because that was the most embarrassing thing that's happened to him all day. Yes, including the episode in front of the other students. He thumps his forehead against the car window a few times. Perhaps if he uses pain as means of punishment after every time he embarrasses himself, he'll finally stop _doing it_.

He stares at his dad in silence, which is probably the reason why the Sheriff looks so uncomfortable. But Stiles is speechless at the moment. He- He can't believe his father just said those words, was in fact so certain he would never say those words just half an hour ago and now...

Stiles finally speaks, "You can't seriously be asking me to do that."

"I'm not asking, Stiles."

His dad looks apologetic, he looks uncomfortable, he looks like he's really fucking sorry for doing this to Stiles but it's _not. helping._

He stands from the kitchen chair because he needs more room to fidget, to show just how agitated he is, "You do realise Scott's my best friend, right? No, screw best friend, he's my _only_ friend, dad."

"What about Lydia? You took her to the formal, didn't you?"

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me of the night where she kept going hot and cold on me, in the end going to search for Jackson because yeah,_he's_ the one she's actually in love with, not to mention what followed - Peter Hale almost killing her, kidnapping me and forcing me to-"

He closes his eyes and stops, pushing his hands out as if physically trying to stop that trail of thought, "And that is so not the point."

"Stiles-"

"No, dad." He shakes his head vigorously, "You can try to ground me, can take my phone away, my internet even, it's not happening. I get not wanting me involved with the wolfy stuff, but this is a bit extreme. How are you gonna control me not speaking to Scott at school, huh? Gonna have one of your guys follow me around? Put me under surv-"

"Stop, Stiles."

"I'm not stopping until you realise how ridiculous this is!"

"What am I supposed to do!?"

He flinches in fright when his dad stands up so swiftly that the chair falls back with a loud clang.

"Scott is dangerous and I have to keep you safe!"

"Scott is _not_ dangerous!"

"From what I heard, he gets _into_ danger a lot and that is good enough of a reason to stop you from being friends with him!"

"I can still be friends with him and not go out for moonlit walks, you know!"

His dad laughs wryly, "Can you honestly swear to me that you won't?"

Stiles shrugs, "I can try?"

"Stiles, this is not a joking matter-"

"I know it isn't, which is why I'm being honest! I can... I don't know, not go out and help with the actual plan, but I can still do the planning, can't I? I can still help in theory? I mean, they won't miss me that much probably, 'cause I'm not exactly the brawns of the group, I just... He's my buddy, dad. If something were to happen to him and I could have done something about it... You have to understand where I'm coming from!"

"Stiles, please. Understand where _I'm_ coming from." His dad walks around the table between them and Stiles tenses a little and hates himself for it when his father's hand rests on his neck, "I can't-, I can't lose you too, son." The Sheriff chokes which cause Stiles' eyes to widen. He's trying not to tear up, even though this is a moment, they're having a moment and he understands that his dad worries but there's something that's been on his chest for a while.

"So I'm not allowed to be in danger but it's perfectly alright if you are?" He realises that his tone is a bit too dry and snappy, but he doesn't care at the moment. His father looks unhappy and surprised. "You're the Sheriff, dad. There are so many times when I lay awake at night, wondering if you're even coming home. Or if maybe you're already in a body bag and somebody is on their way to tell me the news face-to-face. Do you know I've had nightmares about you dying and me being the only one left in this house?"

His dad swallows heavily, eyes wet as he pulls back his hand, "I... didn't know you felt like that."

He's as close to shedding manly tears as his father is so he tries to get to his point quicker. "Life's like that, dad. It's always dangerous. And yeah, maybe I'm in more danger if I hang around werewolves, but that's what life threw at me, I didn't choose it and neither did Scott. I just... Can't you tell me I did good? We got Peter, the bastard and I helped and I just want to know that I did good-"

He's crying again. In the past few days, he's sure reached his crying quota for the year like _woah_.

His dad's hugging him again and this time he hugs back. Properly. Doesn't cling, but embraces his dad like he hasn't since his mother's funeral.

"You did good, son."

He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a hiccup and then laughs at the hiccup-sound and ends up laughingly sobbing for about a minute before he manages to calm down.

"Alright, Stiles. Alright. Two conditions, though."

Stiles is blinking, frozen as he stares over his dad's shoulder. Alright? Alright, he can still be friends with Scott? Alright, he can still be a detective/personal Google for the werewolves?

"You tell me the truth from now on. Everything. When something comes up, you tell me and we'll deal with it together. Got it?"

His lips quiver. He wants to say, '_That's all I ever wanted_' but that's going a bit too far and this whole scene is unmanly enough, which is why he says, "Got it."

"Secondly, I still have a deal with Derek. He'll keep us out of it, will protect you even, if he can handle it on his own and if he needs help he'll come to me. We'll deal with that when the time comes but until then I don't want you hanging around with that guy. You nor Scott."

He nods into his dad's shoulder before stepping back and laughing, the relief making him feel light-headed, "Believe me, staying away from Derek? Not a problem."

His dad snorts, "He's quite a character, isn't he?"

"I still can't believe he told you everything, I mean... that must have been the most he's said in years!"

The Sheriff grunts, "Oh he didn't exactly spend much time explaining it all to me. I tried to get as many details out of him as I could, but he was and still is as tight-lipped as ever." He looks at Stiles with a fond smile for a second before he grabs the teenager's face and speaks in a '_listen to me, this is serious'_ kind of tone, "But no more lies. And no more hiding the truth, either. And you're grounded for two weeks."

"Da-_ad_," he whines and receives a poke on his forehead.

"You shouldn't have lied to me in the first place."

"Not my secret to tell, remember?"

At that, his dad smiles softly, "I hope Scott knows how lucky he is. You're a great friend, Stiles."

Stiles cringes, because _really?_ "I think this has been mushy enough, don't you?"

The Sheriff frowns and then clears his throat awkwardly.

"We should watch some Die Hard to feel manly again." Stiles continues, smiling brightly, "And maybe drink a few beers?"

"Really? After last night?"

Stiles stills, cursing his mouth, "Too soon?"

The doorbell rings and his dad heads over to the door to answer it, "Not until you're 21."

"That's years away!" He shouts after his dad, who disappears behind the corner.

"Kind of the point- Oh hey, Scott."

Hu- what, now?

"Hey, Mr. Stilinski, I came as soon as I heard, is Stiles okay?"

"Um, heard what, son?"

Stiles' eyes are widening as his mouth hangs open because his friend is not about to-

"Bunch of kids were talking about Stiles having a mental breakdown at school and getting punched by Jackson and then someone saw you picking him up and that Derek Hale was also there? I was just... worried."

He hears nothing for a few seconds before his dad appears back in the kitchen, looking thunderous. He says nothing, just glares at Stiles, who wets his lips nervously, thinking rapidly.

"Oh my God, he did punch you!? I'm gonna beat the shit out of him!"

"Stiles?"

His dad was happy and satisfied just moments ago. Even though Scott is looking so adorably angry on his behalf, all huffing and puffing and promising to avenge Stiles' bruised face (and ego), he's kind of considering what his dad had said about not being friends with him anymore.

"Yeah, about that..." He makes a quick decision to start with the made-up stories again, thanking the universe and Scott's blind trust in him because so far Scott hasn't caught any of his lies, which means the werewolf isn't even bothering to listen to Stiles' heart. Which is currently racing.

His gut twists in shame as he blames the episode on his medication, says that he forgot to take it a few times and that his schedule is all messed up. His dad's immediately in worry-mode, it takes Scott a while to come back from the beating-Jackson-up fantasy but soon he's there also, wondering if he's okay. He feels sick for doing this, wonders for a moment why it's so hard to just admit that he got not only dragged around by the mean Alpha but also sexually traumatised by him and his dirty, dirty offers.

_Because you enjoyed it._

He falters during telling his father that he's okay, that he'll get back on track and that he promises it's never happening again. Peter's voice sends chills down his spine and it's obvious that Scott's heightened senses are picking _something_ up because he glances at Stiles' dad before mouthing '_What's wrong_?'. He shakes his head, smiling and waving the matter away (literally).

_You enjoyed being wanted._

Stiles forces a reassuring grin, "I'll be fine. Scott, get back to school, you have lacrosse practice and dad, stop worrying. I'm going upstairs now, I suddenly feel the need to crash."

His dad looks him over one more time before nodding. As Scott turns to leave, though, he's grabbed and pulled back by the Sheriff.

"Actually, Scott, you and me need to have a little chat."

"Oh that's right," he says as he's walking upstairs towards his room and his bed, _God almighty his bed_, "Derek told my dad everything about the werewolves and the Argents being hunters and us almost getting killed."

"What?" Scott squawks and Stiles enjoys this little revenge for the brush-off he received earlier.

"Enjoy," he replies and disappears into his room, resting his head against the door as soon as it closes.

_Given enough time, you would have said yes to me._

"No, I wouldn't have," he whispers.

"Wouldn't have what?"

He whips around, his bag falling away from his shoulder and to the floor with a thump. He gapes stupidly at Derek Hale, who's sitting on his bed, arms crossed and looking as gloomy as ever. Like he hadn't just thirty minutes earlier told Stiles to stay away and promised to stay away as well.

Stiles covers his face with his hands and just breathes for a minute.

He quickly pulls his hands back down to gesture angrily at Derek as he tries to whisper and shout at the same time, "What the fuck, man!?"

And cool as a cucumber, Derek rises from Stiles' bed with grace the teenager can't help but envy, and stares him down.

"I need a favor."

* * *

tbc.

a special thank you to QT05, whose insightful reviews were great to read. i hope this ch didn't disappoint. :)


	4. Let Me Sleep and I'll Bleed Again

Let Me Sleep and I'll Bleed Again

* * *

"You do realize we just agreed to not be around each other anymore?"

Derek huffs, looking like he really wants to be anywhere but here, which Stiles considers funny, since he could just leave and _not_ be here.

"If my dad finds out about this, the deal's off by the way. Not to mention, hey, why are you including my father in your business? You basically traded one easy-to-kill human for another!"

"He's the Sheriff. He's useful."

He gapes at the man angrily, "Oh my God, you're going to use my dad as a get-out-of-jail-for-free card..."

Derek rolls his eyes at the choice of words but shrugs and agrees, "Basically, yeah."

And oh, Stiles hates how flippant the other's being right now. His arms flail as his face contorts into a look of utter bewilderment, because yeah, he's _bewildered_ alright.

"What are you doing here!? Do you have Alzheimer's? Do you not know how to Google? I bet the favor you're going to ask me could easily be done by someone else! Also, how long have you been up here!?"

"...The whole time."

"The whole time."

"Pretty much."

"So after our chat at the school, you just turned around and ran to my house, climbed into my bedroom- hold on, my window was locked," he marches past the werewolf to take a look and gasps in outrage at the broken latch. His fist goes to his mouth, before his hands go to his head and he just turns around and looks at the man in his room because he's actually speechless.

To his credit, Derek looks a bit ashamed.

"...I'll pay for that."

Stiles just nods calmly, hands still holding onto his head like he's afraid his brain's going to explode unless he's putting pressure on his skull, "Yes. You will," He says in a '_duh_' tone which Derek doesn't appreciate, considering the way the other's teeth snap closed.

The other relaxes slowly, though, when Stiles doesn't say anything and just stares at him with wide eyes that he hopes are portraying just how disturbed he is by all of this.

Derek makes this uncomfortable-looking quick stretching move with his neck that has Stiles holding out his hands defensively and going, "Woah, you're not going to wolf out on me, are you?"

"Why would I...?" Derek sighs and looks at Stiles, like _he's_ the odd one right now.

"Why would you be in my room after-"

"Because I need a favor."

"It took you ten seconds after talking to me to realize you actually do need me for something and can't stand to be away from me for oh, let's say a _day_ before you climb through my window like the creeper you so are?"

Derek doesn't look angry, per say, but he does look annoyed. But not the 'going to threaten to harm you with my teeth' kind of annoyed. More like how Scott looks, when Stiles is being fidgety and unhelpful (which is rare, because come on, Stiles is awesome and very helpful; exhibit a - an Alpha werewolf in his bedroom, asking for a _favor_).

"I was going to come to you about this anyway before your father decided to interrogate me."

"And so you lied to him and me and are still going to use me as your perso-"

"I'm not going to use you, Stiles." Derek sighs, shaking his head. He smoothly slides his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and for one second Stiles' frustration falters because his eyes are taking in the length of the man standing before him and why the hell is it so easy to forget himself and stare _now_ when he could just as easily push down the urge to do exactly that when for an example said werewolf was angrily stripping for him and Danny.

"Stiles."

He blinks, looking up in horror because he had just fixated on the other's _crotch_ but Derek doesn't look amused or mean, he's glaring and oh god, that's worse.

"Focus."

He shakes his head angrily, wetting his lips, "Give me something to focus on, then!"

Derek's eyebrows shoot up and Stiles quickly holds up his hands, "No, I didn't mean it like that! I meant tell me what the hell you want from me, man!"

"I was going to ask you at the school, but your father was waiting and glaring at me like I was violating you, which made me want to finish our discussion as soon as possible. But yes, I came here to wait for you, because I need to know your answer now rather than later. Good enough?"

"Um. No. Why didn't you tell me this at the school? You know, 'yes, no more getting into werewolf business, but hey there's one last favor before that'?"

Derek frowns, "You hate lying to your dad, don't you?"

"Well. Yes." Stiles rests his hands on his hips, unwillingly making a 'not bad' face, "Huh. That's actually quite considerate of you. Completely stupid and unnecessary and I don't understand how your mind works but considerate."

"Seriously? You don't understand how _my_ mind works?" Derek's making his prissy face at him. Stiles narrows his eyes in suspicion.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Derek huffs again, rolling his eyes, "I did mean what I said before, you know. Stop running into dangerous situations like you always do. Situations that involve werewolves and breaking the law and everything your dad wants you to stay out of."

"Not like I was dragged into any of those situations by werewolves, oh no-" He changes his tone when the other's glare intensifies, "Yeah, alright already. Can we get to the favor now?"

And now Derek looks uncomfortable again, which is just weird.

"Remember what I said about the urge to form a pack?"

Stiles snorts, "Considering it was less than an hour ago? Yes. I remember." Derek ignores his snark and continues, gaze intense but wary, like he's afraid he's going to get turned down.

Oh. Derek's going to give him a choice this time. Stiles can actually say no. How... interesting.

"It's still there. It's not so strong that I'm going to bite any jackass that begs for it, but it's..." The man closes his eyes and breathes in deeply and wow he's got a gorgeous face.

Stiles has to actually close his own eyes and shake his head to get back on track. When he's finished and his eyes are open again, Derek is looking at him weirdly.

Well, not weirdly but it's an expression Stiles hasn't seen before. The other's eyes are half-lidded, his face for once doesn't look tense but almost relaxed, his lips are parted and his nose is-

Stiles backs up against his cupboard, waving his hands in a forbidding gesture, "Hey, no sniffing anymore, okay? That's just creepy, man!"

Derek blinks rapidly before looking away, eyebrows looking harsh and threatening in that familiar V-shape.

"What the hell was that about?"

"Shut up."

He gawks, "Hey, no, you were asking me a favor and then you went all goo-goo-eyed on me, I mean, does embarrassing me excite you that much, you _fucking_ di-"

"I need your help in choosing people for my pack."

He shuts up.

* * *

He receives a text message from Scott about five minutes after Derek leaves. It says,_ leave the window open_.

Stiles wants. to. sleep. How are the werewolves with heightened senses not noticing how unsteady he's right now and how his eyelids keep drooping and how his breathing is slower than usual because he doesn't even have the energy to breathe in when his lungs need air. No, seriously, he lay down on his bed and just forgot to breathe until he suddenly felt like he was drowning and finally gasped.

Stiles rubs his eyes tiredly when Scott climbs in, stumbling a little. He smiles to himself, for some reason pleased that Scott isn't as graceful as Derek. Or perhaps just not as used to climbing through windows. Oh, that's a creepy thought.

"Why was Derek here!?"

Stiles feels his tired eyes widen, "Can you like, smell him or something?"

Scott sends him a weird, disgusted look that's so comforting, because it's familiar unlike Derek's stupidly gorgeous face that keeps Stiles guessing about the other's mood swings.

"No," Scott says slowly like he's speaking to a retard and hey, Stiles takes offence to that. His IQ is most likely twice as much as Scott's.

"I heard him when I was downstairs talking to your dad. He just told me that we are supposed to stay _away_ from Derek and that the reason Derek was at the school was to tell you to stay out of his business, so...?"

"You didn't tell my dad, right?"

"Of course not!" Scott looks insulted and okay, that was a low bow. Unlike Derek, Scott is aware of the bro-code.

He still sighs in relief, though, because sometimes his best friend can be a little dumb and react without thinking.

"He was here to-" Oh, fuck.

_"Don't tell Scott, he won't like this, he'll try to stop me,"_ is what Derek said.

Is he actually going to lie to his best friend because Derek Hale told him to?

"To say it again. He thought you coming here meant that I was fucking this up and ignoring the deal he and my dad made."

Apparently, he is. And he does it so calmly too, like it's perfectly natural. Lying has become too easy for him. He still remembers the night Scott got bitten, how he lied to his dad about being alone in the woods and how he was so sure his dad could see right through him, because come on, Stiles was fidgety and awkward as hell and probably looking so much like a person who's not being truthful - but his dad believed him, which says a lot about what his dad thinks of him, actually. And from then on lying became a necessity. A necessity that Stiles has mastered.

"Oh. Yeah, I pretty much ran to my bike when I heard what the kids were saying. He must have still been there and saw me. By the way, how are you feeling, buddy? You look awful."

Scott, you're too easy to dupe, man.

And you're a dick.

"Tha-_anks_, I feel great if it wasn't for the fact that I'm like super-duper exhausted and werewolves just keep climbing in through my windows like I'm running a certain business here or something."

"Business?" Scott looks cute when he's confused.

"The oldest job in the world?"

It takes the other a second to get it before he gapes and his eyes almost pop out of their sockets, "Oh." And then he grimaces, "Ew, dude."

"And thanks again," Stiles deadpans.

"No, I mean, it's not you-" Scott stops himself, cringing so madly his whole face is distorted and Stiles would usually be cackling right now. As it is, he just chuckles softly. "I mean, I just thought of you and Derek and oh god I'll have nightmares."

_'Me and Derek. I think I've had that nightmare. Only... not really a nightmare...'_

"Take it easy, buddy. And get the hell out of my room. I need to take like a nap of the century, dude."

Scott sends him a sympathetic frown before nodding, "Yeah, okay. I was just worried..."

And even though Scott is a doofus who often forgets how much he needs Stiles when Allison is around, he still remembers it when they're by themselves and hey, _Stiles_ is not needy. Scott is his best friend and he's still good at it, even with the strain their friendship has taken lately. They're still going strong.

They bump their fists, grinning like idiots and then Scott jumps out of the window.

He goes over to close it, glares at the broken latch again and then sighs, dragging himself to the bed.

Sleep, finally.

And of course when he's finally under the blanket, ready for some awesome nap-time, his brain kicks in gear.

Derek practically made him a list of characteristics he approves of;

One; is underage, therefore more willing to submit to Derek, more easy to control. Two; will say yes even after Derek explains all the threats (Stiles is surprised that Derek's even willing to do that, since it might make the person refuse the bite. He's surprised that the man is giving people a choice. And of course he's stunned that Derek thinks Stiles is the one to trust with picking his pack members. _What is his life, really?_), which means a) desperate, b) lonely and c) wants to get out of his home/away from his family.

Stiles falls asleep drawing charts in his mind, thinking about his classmates and what he knows about their personal lives and in the end wondering what kind of an Alpha will Derek be, and if the man would have offered Stiles the bite had Stiles not gotten drunk and blabbered to his dad about Peter.

He somehow thinks that Derek still wouldn't have.

And it hurts.

* * *

He wakes up in the evening with a start. Stiles can't remember what he dreamed about but there's a familiar stinging sensation in his inner left thigh, which makes him whimper. He pulls down the blanket and hurriedly pushes down the jeans he forgot to take off before falling asleep and stares at the soft, vulnerable skin that's sporting four little scars that should be slowly fading by now. But they're looking as red and bloody as on the night Stiles got them in the first place.

He feels confused and _helpless_ as he stares at the way blood is slowly gathering at the corners of the cuts before finally one drop of the substance, of Stiles' _life_ starts sliding down his thigh. He gasps, quickly standing up and grabbing a tissue from one of the drawers on his desk. He catches the drop before it can fell anywhere, before it can make a mark, something the others would notice - his dad would see the stain, Scott would recognize the scent of blood and he doesn't exactly know why, hasn't figured it out but he can't bear the thought of anyone knowing about this. It's almost like there's something in him that's holding him back, forbidding him of telling anyone about this new problem of his.

For a second he stands there, in his room, holding a tissue to his thigh and just breathes.

When he checks and sees that the blood has stopped flowing he throws the tissue away, wrapping it inside a clean one before disposing it into his trash can.

He thinks of talking to Scott or perhaps even his dad but his insides twist painfully at the thought and he quickly dismisses the idea.

And then he thinks of Derek. His insides still twist in protest but he does what he usually does and thinks _logically_. Derek is an Alpha werewolf now, if there's anyone who can help him figure out what's going on with this whole Peter-as-a-hallucination mess and the scars on his thigh that apparently instead of healing will just open and bleed again occasionally, it should be Derek. But how is he supposed to approach the man with this problem?

He remembers the favor. He still doesn't know why he agreed to it or why he lied to Scott, except his resolve kind of disappeared at the look on Derek's face when the werewolf explained his need for a pack, his _want_ for a pack. The man looked lonely. And if there's one thing Stiles gets, it's loneliness. So you could say he's helping out a kindred spirit? Yup, that's what he's going with.

Also Derek said '_Please_'. Alright, the man had growled it out when Stiles dared to make a few mocking quips about the weird situation they're currently in. But it still counts as a memory that Stiles will treasure forever.

But yes, the favor. He has Derek's number and a reason to contact him. That's a sure way to get the other to meet him to talk about potential new pups and then make a smooth transition to how Stiles kind of needs a favor in return. Or advice. Or perhaps just counselling because his ideas and his _mind_ is starting to freak him out when it's usually only others who don't understand what's going on in Stiles' head.

Things are supposed to be calming down now, considering that Peter's dead. And yet for some reason everything seems worse than ever.

When his legs start to feel a little chilly, he snaps out of his thoughts and tugs his jeans back up. He grabs his phone from his desk and heads downstairs to find something to eat. The house is silent so he figures his dad is at work, like on most nights. He sees the time, is surprised by how early it is and also feels lucky because he actually has some time to study as well as hack into school records and snoop around a little, collect some more information about the candidates he has in mind.

He types a message and hesitates in the kitchen doorway, having to gather up all his courage to just let his finger land on the 'Send' button.

After sending it, he reads his message again to make sure he doesn't sound weird (and yeah people usually do this before sending texts, but Stiles is a rebel).

_got some people in mind,come tmrw 5,dad'll be working_

He doesn't see it as the 'I'm freaking out and need to talk to somebody' message it really is which is why he hopes that Derek won't see it like that either.

But after standing for a while in the kitchen, reading the message over and over again, it starts to sound needier with each read which is why Stiles finally locks his phone, puts it into his pocket and goes back upstairs to study.

He's so nervous he lost his appetite.

* * *

tbc.

another special thanks to QT05, your reviews are flawless and make me very happy indeed, m'dear :D again, hope i didn't disappoint! :)


	5. Allow Me To Lie and I'll Promise You

Allow Me To Lie and I'll Promise You Friendship

* * *

If his sister were here, she would most likely call him an incompetent idiot. And Derek would simply agree. He was never meant to become an Alpha, it was always Laura. He never got the training, the speech about pack unity, the lessons in controlling one's emotions because an Alpha affected their whole pack, willingly or not. Derek was also trained, but to be _obedient_, to use his senses, to recognize his Alpha's emotions and to act accordingly.

You can imagine that he's a little out of his depth here. A little bit on a power high. Because _he's_ the Alpha now. He obeys no one and the pups of this town should be submitting to him, should be joining his pack. But Scott didn't want the bite, doesn't consider this a gift, has no idea what being an Omega is like, which is why he's stubbornly staying away from Derek, making his intentions to go about this all alone very clear. And Jackson? Frankly, Derek didn't even try hard enough to convince the guy to join him, because he's loaded with issues the man doesn't know how to deal with, how to fix.

He remembers his mother telling Laura that an Alpha should not be a tyrant who expected obedience and never gave anything back - an Alpha has to take care of his pack, has to make sure each member is satisfied with his place, is _happy_. Which is why he's choosing the easiest way here, he's not searching for people he has a connection with, people he likes and thinks would truly shine as werewolves. A name pops up in his head every time he considers taking the strength of the pack into the equation, but he forces himself to forget that idea, because Stiles? The _Sheriff's_ son? More trouble than he's worth, surely. No, he needs people who are so lonely, _weak_ that they will come to him willingly, will listen to him, respect him.

He needs a pack, needs to be stronger. He's already received a phone call from one of his family's contacts, one of the few who's still loyal, that relayed a message which caused Derek to go to Stiles in the first place. Gerard Argent is coming. And from what he's heard and from what he knows, the man is a tyrant among hunters. And Kate was his daughter.

Derek doesn't doubt that he'll become the hunted once again soon enough.

Which is why he needs Stiles. The boy obviously sees the positive aspects to the bite, in a way that Scott just can't grasp. Besides being annoying and a smart-ass he's intelligent, analytical and observant. Derek would do this himself, would watch the kids and pick out the loners, the bullied. But considering how the whole town sees him as a _creeper_, as Stiles put it and his deal with the Sheriff, he thinks it would be better to stay away from the school, to stop lurking around so much, lest people actually notice him and notify the police.

He's about to turn into the woods when he catches a faint smell coming through his open windows. He stops his car and goes out to take a few steps towards the trees, breathing deeply and trying to spread his hearing as far as he can. Guns, wolfsbane murmuring. Derek scowls. Hunters are on his land, setting out traps for him. It seems Chris has started the war himself, not needing the urging of his father.

And Derek is the hunted once more.

He sighs, climbing back into his Camaro, taking a moment to think. He needs a new hiding place, somewhere he can take his new pups as well. Comfort is not a necessity, but _room_ is. New werewolves need all the room they can have, which is why the Hale property would have been perfect - room to run around, to train, to play even.

He lets his head fall back on the headrest, hands tightening on the wheel. He's not ready for this. Being an Alpha. But it's done, there's nothing he can do now, he'll just have to improvise as he goes along and he has to hope that whatever mistakes he makes, whatever messes he creates, he can fix them later on.

His phone vibrates against his thigh and he reaches for it, wary.

_got some people in mind,come tmrw 5,dad'll be working_

Derek feels a flash of _something_ in his chest. Something similar to what he felt when he was back at Stiles' bedroom, scenting the boy's attraction to him. The kid has surprisingly helped him a lot, has proven himself to be useful, and at first Derek absolutely hated him. He's twitchy and loud and made the wolf in him howl because it saw Stiles as _prey_. The wolf still gets restless whenever he's around the kid. Only for a wholly different reason that Derek's _not thinking about_.

He's a little annoyed, actually that the other has fixated on Derek like this, after many uncomfortable situations together when Derek didn't even catch a _hint_ of Stiles being interested in him... sexually. He actually figured the other to be completely in love with the redhead who his uncle mauled. But he refuses to spend too much time thinking about it for it's just another complication, especially now that they're sort of working together.

He really does intend to keep Stiles out of danger. But to do that successfully he needs others to help him. It's a mess, but it could be worse.

Stiles could have said 'no'.

As he drives away from the woods, starting his search for a new hideout he curses himself a little for not showing gratitude towards the boy. Stiles probably doesn't realize how much Derek owes him right now.

* * *

Stiles sees his first target at lunch. He sends a quick '_one moment_' gesture to Scott, who's waiting for him at their usual table. The other frowns in confusion and stares as Stiles goes towards one of the few people still standing in line for their food. He taps the boy on his shoulder and his mouth opens to start his friendly greeting but it stays open as he takes in the black eye.

He's heard the rumors, has seen Isaac Lahey looking bruised and battered before, but like this - up close - it seems even worse. And if the rumors are indeed true, then it seems almost brutal. And incredibly sad.

Isaac's looking at him with wary eyes, which makes Stiles realize that he's just been standing there with his mouth open for almost a minute now. He shakes his head and smiles awkwardly.

"Uh, hi. Isaac, right?" He starts, gesturing at the other skitterishly.

The other boy's gaze is flying around as if trying to find the reason for Stiles' sudden interest in him. He can't blame the other for being suspicious. They're on the team together, but nobody ever really approaches the guy, in fact, Stiles has never seen Isaac talking to _anybody_. So he figured, perfect for Derek, right? But he wants to make sure this is right before he even approaches Derek with Isaac's name, because even though the guy said he'll tell them everything and give them a choice, Derek can be... _intense_ and who knows, perhaps even manipulative. So Stiles wants to lay down a little groundwork before sending Isaac to the wolves... the _wolf_.

"What do you want, Stilinski?" Isaac sounds nervous.

He grins widely, "He-_ey_! I know your name, you know mine, we're practically buddies already, huh?" He goes to place a friendly slap Isaac's shoulder, but the guy flinches away suddenly, backing up against the counter and causing a lot of people to stare their way. Stiles looks around, licking his lower lip slowly, realizing for the first time that lunch might be a bad time to approach one of the outcast's and try to ask him subtly if he thinks becoming a supernatural creature would be a good thing, considering it involves violent urges to hurt and kill and that there are people whose life's mission is to put down these sort of creatures.

So he flails a little, like he usually does and then holds his hand to his mouth, thinking on his feet. He knows people are listening in now and Scott is waiting for him and most likely also listening, the cheating werewolf, so he goes with:

"Could you meet me at my Jeep after school? I kind of need to talk to you about something."

And could he sound more like a dweeb? Doubtful, but Stiles always likes a challenge.

"About what?"

Isaac looks even more suspicious and Stiles drags his teeth over his lower lip, wondering how to make himself seem more trustworthy. Babbling usually helps.

"Well, you know Scott, my best friend?" He waits for the other to nod, glancing at Scott who so predictably is staring at them with a clear expression of '_what the hell, Stiles_?'. Stiles needs to train that puppy a little more, the guy's gotta learn to be subtle, dammit.

"Yeah, he's actually my only friend. Unbelievable, I know, but I just haven't got the time to show everybody the social beast that I really am 'cause Scott's the needy, kind-of-clingy type and I've humored him all this time but enough is enough, I need new friends and I like need them now, because Scott has become _so_ annoying recently, I mean, I'm sure you've noticed his sudden success at lacrosse and his romance with the new girl, right?"

Isaac nods, eyes wide and looking a little scared of Stiles at the moment. But he also notices that the guy's lips are twitching a little and amusement Stiles can work with, even if it's at his expense.

(_Especially_ when it's at his expense.)

"Yeah, well he likes to brag. He's totally changed, man, I mean, he's a total dick now and you seem kinda cool, so I thought perhaps we could start hanging out more, I mean we're on the same team and everything and haven't even exchanged fist bumps and that's just sad. We gotta take high school social life more seriously, got to go out and live a little."

He feels like such an asshole right now. But Isaac seems to be buying it, which just shows how much of a social outcast the other really is... Most of the other people near enough to have heard Stiles' little speech are laughing or just rolling their eyes at him, but Stiles doesn't care about that right now. He cares about the fact that Isaac's smiling at him. This adorable little smile that kind of makes Stiles melt inside. The kind of smile that people like Derek for an example could never pull off.

"Um, okay? If that's... I mean, I don't think I'd be fun to hang out with, I'm not really... talkative..."

"That's great!" He receives a doubtful look in return and hurries to elaborate, "I mean, I talk a lot so I just need someone who's a good listener, really." He rests his hands on his hips, nodding vigorously.

This is just awkward and kind of feels like asking someone out on a date. Becoming buddies should not be this hard. But Isaac looks sort of happy as they agree to meet out at the parking lot after school and Stiles tries to force away how wrong he feels, because he's lying, he's lying like a dick 'cause he actually wants to present Isaac as the bite-able human for Derek, wrapped in a bow and everything is so fucked up he can't even begin to wrap his head around where his life is going right now.

Scott looks hurt and makes a whimper-like sound as Stiles sits down opposite of him, "What the hell was that about, man?"

Stiles shakes his head, not even bothering to come up with a good lie, "Just... felt bad for the guy."

"Why did you have to call me a dick, though?"

"He looked so suspicious and I just wanted him to trust me a little, okay? Insulting you seemed like the easiest way!"

"You know sometimes I just don't know how to react to the stuff you say!"

Stiles laughs, "I'm aware of that, Scott, you make it kinda obvious with the way you scowl at me and leave your mouth open without any words coming out of it."

"_You_ shouldn't be saying anything about people leaving their mouths open."

"Hey," he points the sandwich he just grabbed from his bag at Scott defensively, "it's a reflex I have, okay?"

"A reflex to what?"

"Oh I don't know, stupid shit that people say?" And he pointedly leaves his mouth open as he stares at Scott, until the other finally cracks and laughs.

"Fine, fine. Why didn't you include me in the hanging out, though? I wouldn't mind, I kind of feel bad for him too."

Stiles snorts, "Like you have the time."

"What does that mean?"

"Uh, that a certain girl who's name begins with the first letter of the alphabet has you so busy you don't even have time for your best friend anymore?"

Scott looks wounded and _Jesus_, Stiles hates those puppy eyes. Scott has always had them but they kind of have more impact now.

"I haven't- I don't-"

Okay, Scott looks like he's actually wounded, so Stiles sighs and helps the poor fellow out.

"Don't worry about it, I didn't mean it like that. I totally get that you love her and want to be with her, I'm sure that if I had someone in my life right now, I'd be totally ditching you too."

"Ditching!? I-"

"Poor choice of words!" He shakes his hands defensively, one of them still holding his sandwich, "Just. Forget I said anything, I'm not mad or anything, I swear! I mean, I am jealous, of course I am... You get to make out with a beautiful girl while I get to hang out at home, alone and that sounds so pathetic I'm just gonna stop talking now."

"Stiles..."

He hates the pity in his friend's voice so he shrugs and smiles quirkily, "Hey, don't worry about it, buddy. Seriously." He throws his sandwich back into his bag. "I'm getting out of here, gotta pee before class-"

"Aren't you going to eat that?"

Scott is pointing at his bag, where his sandwich just landed in and Stiles stills because he knows why Scott's worried. Stiles likes to eat. A lot. He usually eats junk-food, mainly curly fries and he enjoys it. Which is why it's weird he's not eating his sandwich. It's weird he brought a _sandwich _to school in the first place, actually.

"Um, I don't feel like eating." And it's the truth. But even Stiles hears the doubt in his voice, because he can feel his stomach grumbling at him, can feel how empty and lightheaded he is from hunger because he hasn't eaten anything since yesterday's breakfast and _woah_, that's dangerous.

Scott seems to be thinking the same thing, rising up from his seat to look Stiles in the eye.

"Hey, you okay, buddy? Because you still look like crap and I think you need to eat. You should really eat, Stiles."

He nods, weirded out by this sudden discovery, he really didn't notice how hungry he was before. And now that he does, he still doesn't want to eat. The thought of eating is kind of physically making him feel sick and that's bad, that's really bad.

"I'll... I'll eat it later, right now I really gotta run to the bathroom."

Scott looks like he doesn't want to let him go, like he wants to force Stiles to sit and watch as the boy eats until Scott's satisfied, but he nods as well, stepping back and looking the other over, concerned.

"Okay, just... just make sure you eat at some point, or I'll seriously punch you in the face for making me worry so much."

That's better. Less worry, more violence. Stiles grins, "Aye, aye, captain!" And he jogs away from the cafeteria.

* * *

It takes him about thirty seconds to gesture at Scott that he's fine and that yes he ate his sandwich (a horrific experience where the bread tasted like ash in his mouth that he isn't about to share with anyone) and that the other should just go already. In the end Scott gives in and takes off on his bike.

He only has to wait about ten seconds before Isaac is meeting him at his Jeep.

Throughout his last class all he could think about was how he was going to go about this, how was he going to start this conversation. He figured, he should start with half-truths and improvise from then on.

He does the awkward yet friendly greeting and invites Isaac to sit in his Jeep.

This is weird. There's no getting over how weird this is.

And Isaac's on the same page with the _weird_ as he's currently sitting on the passenger seat, sending Stiles these looks that describe perfectly how uncomfortable and awkward this is.

So Stiles begins talking, he's good at talking, except this is a serious conversation they're going to have, so he's got to stay clear of bad jokes, sarcasm and pop culture/geeky references, which is difficult because those are his go-to backup whenever a situation is _this_ awkward.

"So..."

Always a safe start.

"Did you want to hang out today, or?"

A valid question. Brownie points to Isaac!

"Ah, I can't actually, I'm grounded. I... I'm gonna be honest here, 'kay?" He turns in his seat so he's facing the other boy and Isaac's eyes are wide and cautious as he nods gently. "I just really wanted to talk to you because I kind of feel sorry for you, man. The bruises and the way people ignore you, I mean it's just not right. I would have talked to you a lot sooner, too, but a lot of shit happened this year and well- you know teenagers, right? We're all selfish, really - everyone has their own problems and can't see past them to notice how others are hurting too, y'know?"

Isaac's no longer looking at him, staring down at his lap. "I don't need anyone's pity."

He expected that, straightening up and wearing his '_not-bullshitting-you_' face.

"It's not pity, it's worry."

"Why should you care?" Isaac looks up, sneering.

"Because you're on my team, you're in a lot of my classes, because I've seen you more often _with_ bruises than without and I actually have a heart and know that what you're going through is wrong. We just established today that we know each other's names, we _acknowledged_ each other's existence. No way in hell, can I now walk past you in the halls, see you with a black eye and not wonder how you got it."

The other's still hesitating, obviously unused to such attention so Stiles goes on.

"I just want you to tell me something. And then maybe I'll share a little secret with you."

"A secret?" Isaac's eyes are shining with curiosity and Stiles feels his insides clench with both triumph and anxiety. He's got the other hooked now, he has to tread carefully.

"Before that, I need you to tell me if the rumors are true."

And just like that the other shuts down, "What rumors?"

"That it's your father who beats you up." He cringes a little as soon as he's said it, coming across way too abrupt and dismissive. Isaac's shoulders go rigid and Stiles swears the other stops breathing for a moment, he looks so still.

"Why does it matter?" He finally asks brusquely.

"I just..." He sighs, hesitating, "I don't know if you've heard, but I only have my dad too. And I can't imagine... what it would be like if... It's just wrong on so many levels and you don't have to go through that anymore."

Isaac's slowly relaxing, but his eyes are sad. Stiles has to force down a small smile because the other already has some puppy magic going for him, he was born to become a werewolf, surely.

"He wasn't always like this." Isaac suddenly says and Stiles goes very still, breath stuttering out of him painfully because even though he had his doubts, he still hoped that it wasn't the other's father, that it was just some bullies at school. "We used to get along just fine." Isaac swallows, blinking away tears, unwilling to show weakness in front of Stiles and the other boy gets it, he _aches_ inside from how well he gets it. "But then mom left and my brother..."

Stiles wets his lips before breathing in, shuddering, "Why haven't you told anyone?"

"I still want us to go back to how we were... I keep hoping that my dad will stop-" He laughs weakly, shaking his head, "That he will just stop doing this to me."

"Hey, remember that secret?" He quickly says, noticing how close the other is to a breakdown. He receives a grateful look from Isaac as he nods, curiosity once again making an appearance in the other's eyes. "Well, did you notice how Scott's amazing skills at lacrosse evolved kind of out of the blue?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"I have a friend who can help you be like that. You'd be stronger, faster, most likely cooler and with a self-confidence you're clearly lacking right now. You'd be able to stand up to your dad without telling on him, also you wouldn't have to worry about getting bullied anymore."

He can see the longing so clearly on the other's face, there's no doubt about it. Isaac is definitely considering everything that Stiles is saying.

"How is that possible?" He shifts a little towards Stiles, a clear show of interest. "I don't think I want to take drugs or steroids or something."

Stiles laughs humorlessly, "Oh, if only it was steroids. Steroids would be so much easier to handle." He keeps his eyes straight ahead as he continues, "It's something scary, life-changing. Once you say 'yes' you can never take it back, can never return to how you were. But it's also awesome, man. In so many ways."

"Why didn't you say 'yes', then? Or were you never offered?"

Isaac's question is innocent but it brings back a sharp stinging sensation in his thigh. The bruises are healing slowly, but at least healing, _fading_. The scars, though, Stiles is getting worried about them. He doesn't exactly want to drop down his pants, push out his leg and present his inner thigh to Derek, but he might need to do that soon. After his initial panicked text the night before he figured he'd rather wait and see if they start to bleed again. If not, then no need to embarrass himself in front of the Alpha.

Here's to hoping.

He shudders a little before replying, "I was offered, quite recently in fact."

"And you said 'no'? Why, if it's so awesome?"

"It's complicated but basically... it was offered by the wrong person." Isaac's frowning, confused and also a bit squeamish, which is why Stiles quickly elaborates, "You'll understand soon enough but the person who offers this new life to you, you'll be connected to them. And you obviously want someone you can trust, right?"

"And this friend of yours, I can trust them?"

"As much as you can trust me?"

Obviously the wrong thing to say.

"I hardly know you."

"Yeah, okay. Listen, my friend can come by your place later tonight and he'll explain everything in detail. He'll tell you about the threats and the consequences of your choice and by the end of it you can still say 'no'. How's that sound?"

"Weird and creepy," Isaac laughs. "But I think... No, yeah, I'm interested."

Stiles nods, relieved.

"But tell him to come to the graveyard," Isaac says, suddenly avoiding Stiles' questioning gaze.

"Why?"

"I work there on most nights," he says flippantly.

"Oh." No, seriously, who the hell makes their kid work at a _graveyard_? He hopes that Derek can give Isaac a better life, because this isn't okay. It's so far from okay that it's making Stiles feel sick and lightheaded. Or perhaps that is the hunger talking, yeah, could easily be the hunger.

"Want my phone number?"

"Hm? Oh! Yeah, sure."

They awkwardly exchange phone numbers and when that's done, Isaac opens the passenger door. He doesn't exit the Jeep yet, though.

"Hey, was all of this just to... recruit me or something?" Isaac smiles wryly, but Stiles can see the lingering hurt there and curses himself just before he says:

"We-_ell_, part of it. Would still like to keep in touch and y'know, hang out, though. And also, let me know how it goes with my friend tonight?"

Isaac's smile brightens and he nods eagerly before leaving.

Stiles sits there for a second, in silence, before he starts the Jeep.

For some reason he feels like he just violated the other's innocence or something. He doesn't really want to be the other's friend, frankly his father would definitely throw a fit if Isaac agrees to the bite - one werewolf he can handle, that's what he said this morning, one werewolf and that being Scott. But now he'd feel like he's stomping on a puppy if he starts ignoring Isaac again.

He's pretty occupied with self-pity and wondering why he gets himself _voluntarily_ into these situations, which is why he doesn't notice the car heading towards him, clearly driving way over the speeding limit.

His head hits the window on impact and he's conscious long enough to feel the fear kick in.

Then he feels nothing.

* * *

tbc.


	6. Let Us Touch and We'll Become One

Let Us Touch and We'll Become One

* * *

Lydia has always figured herself to be a survivor. The person who actually manages to get through dangerous situations in one piece, who lives to tell the tale and becomes famous because of it. Which is why it's no surprise when she wakes up in the hospital, in pain and traumatized but _alive_.

She's had nightmares about the man who attacked her, but has kept it quiet since she's covered in bite-marks and scars that were most certainly created by _claws_. She's a smart girl, knows that if she starts telling stories about a man who's face was that of a monster attacking her, biting her, _she_ might be the one who gets locked up.

That doesn't mean she believes it was an animal, either. At the moment, she doesn't know what to believe, knows only what Jackson told her. Stiles had been there at some point, Stiles had called for Jackson, had known where she was and that she was hurt and had then _left_ her there. Lydia's quite furious about that. But she's curious enough to forget her anger and be nice to Stiles, be friendly, if the other would just tell Lydia everything that happened that night.

She wants to know for sure if what she saw, what she remembers actually happened. Or if perhaps there's actually something wrong with her. Also, she has a bit of a soft spot for Stiles now, she won't bother hiding it. The guy had been so nice to her, even though he knew that he had no chance, that she's always thinking of Jackson first. She didn't like hurting him like that and wishes she could make it up to him somehow.

Not to mention, her aspirations have always been far-fetched but _conceivable_ and Stiles Stilinski was the first one to see that. She never gave much thought to the Sheriff's son, other than occasionally noticing how pathetic his attempts at catching her attentions were, but after the formal she admits that there's much more to him than meets the eye. He's definitely kinder, _gentler_ than Jackson, smarter as well. Lydia wishes she could forget all about her ex (and that word still stings) and give Stiles a proper chance, but that's not going to happen. At least not now and Lydia doesn't want anyone to wait for her, least of all Stiles.

So she'd like to sit Stiles down, interrogate him, apologize to him and ask if they can still be friends. If only Stiles would visit her. She'd never admit it to anyone but herself that the reason she's been so snappish to everyone at the hospital; the nurses, her family (besides the pain and trauma, of course) is the absence of a certain boy who might have all the answers to her questions.

* * *

It's the third day since she woke up, she's healing nicely and is slowly beginning to feel like herself again. Still no Stiles. But she figures once she gets out of the hospital and returns to her normal high school life, she can knock some sense into that boy.

Lydia sincerely hopes the reason Stiles is staying away has got nothing to do with Jackson, that her behavior at the formal wasn't the final straw for him.

It's about eleven o'clock when she gets out of bed to shower, unable to stand the stench of sweat any longer. She snaps at the nurse on duty who fusses over her. Lydia's too tired to deal with people right now and at the same time misses the crowded halls of her high school, of being admired and envied, of feeling _powerful_. She feels ugly and vulnerable in her hospital bed, like she's incomplete without her designer clothes, her make-up. Over the past few years she has created an image and somewhere along the way she forgot how it was all supposed to be a facade, a mask. It's a part of her now and she needs it to feel safe, to be strong.

She can't wait to get out of this stupid place.

When she returns from her shower, hair still a little wet, there's a woman sitting pertly on her hospital bed. A woman with bleached blonde hair, blood-red lips and eyes so intense that when they land on Lydia, she can't breathe until they soften their gaze. The woman's wearing a purple overcoat, that Lydia would mock if she wasn't busy freaking out.

Because she's focusing on the most important fact about this woman - Lydia has no idea who she is.

"Um, I think you're in the wrong room," she says calmly, cocking her head and pursing her lips in disapproval.

The woman grins and the sense of evil and _wrong_ that emanates from her makes Lydia's skin crawl.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm exactly where I'm meant to be."

Her voice is dark, hoarse as she stands from the bed and starts to slowly walk towards Lydia. She tries to turn around and run, to scream but all the woman has to do is raise her hand and the girl is left immobile, mute.

The woman pouts and makes a sound of disappointment, "And here I was hoping you'd be strong enough to fight against my hold."

Lydia doesn't understand why this is happening to her, first a monster disguised as a man and now this... this woman. Is her mind playing tricks again, is she having a nightmare?

"But I guess that's what I'm here for. To release all of that potential." The woman's close enough now that Lydia can feel her breath hitting her face. She even _smells_ wrong, like everything that Lydia's ever hated.

Her arm is grasped in a tight grip and she wants to shout, to call for help but then there's light exploding between them, a sudden electrifying pain ripping through Lydia's entire body, from the tips of her toes to her quivering eyelids. She wants to scream, is trying to - her mouth open and yet not a sound coming out of it.

And then the light disappears and she is let go. Her body crumbles to the floor, aftershocks making her twitch as she stares up in silent horror. The woman's hair is now red, the same color as Lydia's. She's still smiling.

"Get up, sister. We have work to do."

* * *

Derek would never admit it out loud, but he's worried.

Of course, if Stiles were to walk through that door, apologizing and babbling about how he got hold up with something or the other, Derek wouldn't hesitate - he'd slam the other against the nearest hard surface and make him understand that you don't keep an Alpha waiting. And he'd enjoy it.

It's 5:17 PM and still no Stiles, the house is empty. Derek's sitting on the boy's bed in the dark and is beginning to feel unsettled. He didn't figure the other to be forgetful, which is why the lack of calls or texts explaining his absence is worrying.

For about five minutes he imagines how Stiles has once again gone snooping around in things that don't concern him whatsoever and gotten himself in trouble because of it. Towards the end of those minutes he has to think of something else because his claws are ruining the boy's bedspread. A strong emotion is welling up inside of him, his wolf causing the instinct to _protect_ to rise up, an instinct he has felt before with these teenagers, so it doesn't surprise him. Scott feels like pack, even though the boy refuses to join him which is why he understands why his wolf is so adamant about protecting, _defending_ the younger werewolf. But with Stiles it's different, even the instinct feels different, more potent somehow.

He can't really separate the nuances in his wolf's impulses, as a kid he'd always go to Laura for advice because she understood it, she had been taught by their father, the family's Alpha. He sometimes feels sick with grief when he remembers the times he spent with his whole pack in the Hale house; how his father would teach Laura, how their mother would teach him to support his sister until she'd find herself a mate to share the responsibility of the pack with. He doesn't let himself miss them much, doesn't allow his mind to go there, because it can only bring more heartbreak, more _pain_ and guilt and he's through with that.

He's the Alpha now, end of. He has to provide for his future pack, has to learn from his mistakes and has to _trust_ his wolf. Which is why he's reaching into his jacket for his phone to finally call Stiles himself, when he hears the car pull up in front of the house. Frowning, he stills completely as he hears the Sheriff enter his home, breathing deeply or trying to. The man's heart is racing, but his movements are sluggish. He hears him close the front door and thinks the man just stands there for a moment before Derek hears something so intimate and yet terrifying, it makes his throat clog up and he rises from the bed, alarmed.

Sheriff Stilinski is _crying_.

He can't even pretend to be indifferent now, he wants to know if Stiles is okay, _needs_ to know, which is why he does something stupid. He exits the bedroom and heads downstairs. He steps loudly enough so the other can hear him. He doesn't even flinch as he sees the gun pointed at him, takes in the dry cheeks, red eyes and grim expression. Surprise flickers in the man's eyes before he lowers his gun and Derek's shocked by the sudden trust.

"What the hell are you doing here, Derek?"

He doesn't bother lying, "I'm here about Stiles."

Stilinski's shoulders sag as he sighs, nodding wearily, "So you heard." Derek thinks quickly if he should be truthful but that would raise questions about his real reason for being there and he wishes to avoid that, so he nods once, swallowing down his questions, his need for answers. Fortunately, the Sheriff continues, "Not surprised, the whole town's probably buzzing about the Sheriff's son being in the hospital because of a stupid car crash."

A car crash. After everything Stiles has been through, he gets into a _car crash_. It's the first time Derek wants to laugh out of frustration.

"How is he?" he asks, cautious._ God, what if Stiles is..._

"He's going to be fine." The other takes a deep breath, voice shaky as he goes on, "He has a concussion, is still unconscious and has a broken wrist but the doctor was quite sure he's going to wake up soon. They'll keep him in the hospital for a few nights under surveillance and I came home to get some things for him, 'cause Stiles can't handle boredom." He laughs softly, weakly. "I imagine I'll have to bring him home early because the staff will get tired of him soon enough. After he wakes up..." his voice trails into silence.

Derek's stomach is churning and he can't tell the relief and worry apart anymore; they're both battling for dominance, making him feel _sick_. His teeth grind together in anger, he forces himself to feel angr_ier_ because it's better than any other emotion. He's tired of feeling sick. Tired of wanting to throw up, feeling like it's the only way he can lessen the guilt that keeps on piling up inside him.

"I didn't think you'd be so concerned, didn't think you'd care at all, actually."

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. For a moment he forgets to put a guard up, to hide his emotions and he hates how the Sheriff is so attentive, how the man sees everything Derek wishes to suppress.

But he still doesn't expect the other to say, "He's _six years_ younger than you, Derek," looking uncomfortable yet stern.

Derek immediately gets it, though, grinning in disbelief, "I can't believe you remember that."

"It's not every day I find two kids canoodling in a car neither of them is allowed to drive yet."

He smirks wryly at the memory and at the other's choice of words, "Canoodling?"

"The point is, you shouldn't even be thinking about my son in that way."

Derek sighs, rolling his eyes because he has no patience for the protective father speech, "I'm not. It's not like that. I just... He's helped me a lot. I owe him."

The Sheriff nods, before turning around and opening the door, "I appreciate the concern, I'm sure Stiles would too but I think it's best if you honor the deal we made by staying away from here."

He smiles to himself, aware that now the Sheriff has made an assumption, he's sticking to it. He hopes he's not going to start monitoring his son's calls, though. He still needs Stiles' help.

As Derek's walking out of the door, his phone vibrates. He stops to take it out, ignoring the Sheriff's glare. It's a text from Stiles, which undeniably makes him feel lighter suddenly.

_Isaac Lahey - graveyard, works there, is expecting you tonight_

He chuckles, amazed. The kid's in the _hospital_ for Christ's sake and he still manages to think about Derek. He can admit it to himself, at least - he has a grudging respect for the boy, _likes_ him even.

He looks up, grins wolfishly at the Sheriff who's already looking suspicious, "Your son's awake."

Not bothering to stand there long enough for the other to react, he takes off, heading towards the graveyard. He'll do some digging himself about this kid before he approaches him. He trusts Stiles, but this is something he has to trust on his wolf once more. The boy has to feel right, has to smell good enough for him to even consider biting him. Because he doesn't have much time, his standards are lower than they should be, but they're still _there_.

There are things he has to check that Stiles can't.

He spares one last concerned thought to the boy in the hospital before he focuses on the importance of tonight. He might be getting another pack member, at last.

* * *

His head is killing him.

No, really. Murder is taking place and nobody believes him. He's been awake for less than thirty minutes and already he has asked for an increased dosage of painkillers at least twice but the doctor's orders are the doctor's orders and they don't want him to get addicted or something - Stiles can't really pay attention to the nurse's words because of the _headache_ and the _broken wrist_, thank you very much.

At least they gave him his phone back. They were reluctant but when he threatened to have a panic attack because of having to send an important text, they finally relented. So now perhaps Derek doesn't want to kill Stiles for having ditched him. The man had stressed how important it was that this would be done quickly, so Stiles didn't bother explaining why he made a disappearing act and just forwarded Isaac's name and whereabouts. Let Derek do the rest for now.

"Your father is on his way back."

Stiles thanks the nurse, flushing. He kind of freaked out when he woke up in the hospital, injured and in pain and had asked for his dad, panicking for real.

His eyelids are drooping but he's unable to fall asleep for he keeps wincing every now and then. This headache is really not going anywhere-

"I think I can give you another dose now."

He blinks up at the beautiful creature next to his bed, "I want to have your babies."

The nurse snorts, "What are they teaching you at school these days?" and pats him on the head before starting to administer the drug.

He's more relaxed soon enough and asks the nurse to wake him when his dad gets there. He can see it clearly on her face that she won't but she lies to try to ease his mind anyway.

Stiles tries to stay alert til his father's arrival so he can assure the man that he's totally fine and that the accident was _so_ not his fault but he gives up the second time he starts awake after a mini-nap and lets himself fall away.

* * *

When he wakes up, he feels worse. His wrist's throbbing, his head just feels like one big mass of pain and so it's entirely excusable that he whimpers as he opens his eyes.

His dad's there this time, coming closer to stare down at him with concern in his eyes and Stiles relaxes a little. He's safe.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?"

"Like my Jeep had just gotten hit by a car causing me to hit my head against the window- oh my God, I didn't even think about the Jeep, is it okay?" His breathing quickens and he tries to sit up. His dad firmly pushes him back down and he's actually grateful because those few inches he managed to rise up already caused him nausea.

"It got hit pretty bad but it'll be repaired, don't worry."

He sighs, relieved, "Not a lost cause, then?"

"No. But, son... the other driver, she..."

"She? I got hit by a woman? Do we know her?"

"Stiles."

He blinks up in surprise at his dad's stern expression and swallows his words.

"She's in a coma."

"Oh. Wow." Stiles slowly struggles to sit up, only able to use one hand. His dad finally relents and helps him, even fluffs up his pillows for him which makes Stiles smile fondly. "But the accident, it wasn't my fault, right? The light was green, dad, I _swear_-"

"No, don't even worry about that, we have eyewitnesses. It was the woman's fault, she was speeding and ignored the red light and you were just... in the way." He grabs Stiles' shoulder and looks him in the eye, sincere when he says, "I just don't want you to feel guilty, alright? There's nothing you could have done to avoid the crash and it's not your fault."

He nods readily, so on board with that idea, "Yeah, I get that, honestly. But... is she going to be okay? Was she drunk?"

"According to the doctors she wasn't drunk or drugged and the eyewitnesses didn't see her speaking on a phone or being otherwise distracted, someone even said that she..."

"She what?"

"That it seemed like she was accelerating on purpose. Like she was intentionally driving ahead to crash into the Jeep."

He gapes for a second before floundering helplessly at the thought that somebody attempted to murder him.

"What, but, why, I mean-"

His dad's grip tightens, making him meet the other's gaze and he's comforted by the certainty he sees there, "It was just one person, it doesn't mean that that's what actually happened."

Stiles nods, "Yeah. You're right. But it doesn't mean that it's out of the question either, right?"

The Sheriff sighs but says nothing because they both know that it's a possibility, except _why_? What could anyone hope to gain from Stiles' death? Even to get back at the Sheriff, it seems a bit extreme considering the woman put her own life in danger as well - and ended up worse than her _target_.

"Anyway, what's important now is your recovery."

"Am I getting home today?"

"Definitely not." Stiles pouts and his dad just cocks an eyebrow, "You're not going anywhere today, you have a _concussion_, Stiles. You probably won't be able to stand up without help."

"Challenge accepted," Stiles mutters as he pushes the blanket off and drags his legs to the side. The Sheriff doesn't even try to stop him just steps back and mutters something about Stiles being stubborn just like his mother. It causes a familiar hurt to appear in his chest but he ignores it, tries to stand instead. His dad catches him gently by the arms when Stiles just suddenly careens into him. He flushes, embarrassed but his dad doesn't say a word, gathers him more against his side and helps him towards the door Stiles was eyeing.

"Bathroom?"

Stiles chuckles weakly, "Yeah, at first I just wanted to pee but now I'm pretty sure I gotta puke first because otherwise I'm gonna let it all out on my d-"

"Shut up, son."

"Gotcha."

He gets into the bathroom, assures his dad he'll be fine on his own, he's got a little of his balance back and _hey, look at the cupboards and all the surfaces Stiles can cling to_ (and also hit his head against were he to fall). He's allowed to close the door only when he promises not to lock it and then he's finally alone again.

Until he isn't.

"Lydia? ...What are you doing in the bath?"

* * *

tbc.

_Special note for QT05: Thanks again for more sweet reviews! :)) Peter will be back, yes. Well in the show I think Peter was kind of connected to Lydia through the bite and her immunity to it somehow also helped? They kind of hinted at that with the dialogue between them. In my story, though, Peter has a different connection to Stiles, that will be hinted at next chapter ;D Also, sorry for the delay in Stiles exposing his thigh to Derek xD_


	7. Have Death Embrace Me and I'll Rest

Have Death Embrace Me and I'll Rest

* * *

If he wasn't so busy being terrified for his life, he'd probably think of ways to get revenge on Stilinski for this. Because getting dropped into a grave while a _lunatic_ dug out a dead body was not what he signed up for.

This... Being just as terrified as the first few times his dad dragged him into the cellar, because he _didn't know,_ then, how long his father would leave him down there - this was not what Isaac agreed to and goddammit he just wants everything to stop.

And suddenly there is silence.

His backhoe is lifted up and Isaac scrambles backwards in fear because that thing weighs too much for a human being to just right it that easily. It must be that _thing_ that he saw, with the claws and the growling and the inhuman speed, which must mean that it also has inhuman strength, right? Not good.

Isaac is pretty sure he's about to die. He hopes his father will feel some form of regret at having beaten his child after this, after Isaac's death, because he likes to think his father wants to make it right as well, he just doesn't know how. Now they won't get to be like the family they were ever again and if this is Stilinski's fault, Isaac's going to do all he can to come back so he can haunt his ass.

But then a figure emerges by the grave, a figure Isaac recognizes. He might keep his head down, keep his nose out of other people's business but he keeps his eyes and ears open and he's seen this guy's face enough in the newspapers, has noticed him around town to know that he's staring at Derek Hale.

Which is not comforting, considering the reasons Derek's face was in the papers in the first place. But the other stands there for a moment, just looking and Isaac can't connect this man with the creature he saw earlier, the thing that frightened him so much which is why he feels his breathing normalize a bit.

"Need a hand?" The guy finally asks and Isaac wants to laugh in relief. Surely the guy would've killed him already if that was his agenda.

He carefully pushes himself up, leaning against the side of the hole, still hesitant, "Are you Stilinski's friend?"

Derek's face contorts into a small grimace, "More like acquaintances. But yes, he sent me." He then cocks an eyebrow, "You want to have this conversation in a grave? Or do you need a hand?" And he holds out his hand meaningfully, crouching down so Isaac can reach it.

He flushes a little because the other doesn't seem like the patient type, but he feels a little out of his depth here, doesn't really know what he's doing, why he let Stilisnki worm in with his pathetic excuses when in the end it seemed so obvious, he was after this one thing, to get Isaac to meet this guy.

But there's something about Stiles that makes Isaac want to trust him... He's always kind of envied the easy friendship Stiles and Scott have, the inexplicable trust and knowledge of each other. It's so much different from for an example Jackson's and Danny's friendship, which also relies on trust but doesn't have the same brotherly bond the other two have.

He pushes that away for now and hesitantly grasps the other's hand, shouting out in surprise when he's quickly lifted up and out of the grave, gasping when his feet land on grass again. Because even with the body that Derek so obviously _has_, that was a trick he shouldn't be able to do. It was _inhuman_.

"How did you do that?" He breathes out in awe.

Derek's frowning and Isaac hopes he hasn't angered the other.

"How much did Stiles tell you about me?"

"Uh, not much," he admits, backing away a few steps to keep a distance between them, happy when Derek makes nothing of it. "Just that McCall's sudden success at lacrosse has something to do with this and... and that I can be stronger?"

The man nods, lips pursed in thought, "Nothing else?"

He swallows heavily, "And that... there's going to be some kind of connection between you and me? He, uh, told me that he got the same offer you're about to give me now? And that he said no because it came from the wrong person?" He really hates how his every sentence ends with a clear questioning tone, his dad would have smacked him for it.

Isaac's surprised by the flicker of something on the other's face but it's gone just as quickly as it appeared and Derek nods, as if he's reached a decision on something.

"What would you say if I told you I'm a werewolf?"

And that... Isaac never expected that, either. He's kind of stammering, mouth half-way to a smile because that was a joke, right? Only, he starts to _think_. He remembers everything that's been going on lately, the odd animal attacks, Scott's agility and speed and especially the thing he just saw, the claws-

"You weren't the one who dropped me into the grave and then dug up a body, were you?" He asks slowly in a shaky voice.

Derek squints at him suspiciously, eyes flying towards the grave the thing attacked earlier, "No."

"But it was a werewolf? Like you?"

The man grins suddenly and for some reason Isaac finds that intimidating as well.

"So you believe me just like that?" He shakes his head in disbelief, still smiling in that threatening way of his and Isaac chuckles nervously.

"It just.. explains a lot." He doesn't elaborate but Derek nods again, as if he understands.

"Didn't even have to bring out the fangs," and though his grinning mouth shows teeth still very much human, his eyes flash bright red and Isaac flinches back with a shout.

"And it's really not necessary!"

Derek chuckles and he's _still_ intimidating. For a moment he admires Stilinski's guts for being acquaintances with this guy.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. That's not what I'm here for."

And suddenly the other's smile turns friendly and he would very much like to point out that this doesn't make him seem less scary in fact it has the opposite effect, except Isaac's brain is slowly starting to work through the panic and utter weirdness.

"So... you're here to turn me into a werewolf?" If he does sound a little hopeful towards the end there, hey, this sounds much better than his drug-theory. "Wait..." Brain in full gear now. "McCall is a werewolf!?"

Derek rolls his eyes, "Uh, yeah. And yes, I'm here to offer you the bite. But there are still things you need to hear before you make your decision."

Isaac shuffles a little, glancing once more towards the attacked grave, "Like what?"

"Dangers that come with becoming a werewolf. You would be leaving your life behind and starting a new one with me as your Alpha. You would be joining my pack."

"Pack? That's actually a _thing_?" For a moment Isaac's mouth is stupid like it so often is, his latest bruise a reminder but he quickly remembers that he's dealing with not only a person who's been a murder suspect more than once but also a _werewolf_. On instinct and relying on the little knowledge he does have about wolves, he quickly looks down when Derek's expression changes into something unsettling, trying to act submissive.

"Yes," Derek grits out. "And once you join, you stay loyal to your pack. We'll stick together no matter what."

That sounded... nice, actually. Stable. Comforting. "Who else is in the pack? McCall?"

"No, McCall refused to join, I'm trying to get him to change his mind but no luck so far." And the guy actually seems distressed about it which makes Isaac wonder what happened between the two that Scott would rather be alone in this than join a pack.

"And who else?"

"No one, right now."

Isaac's nerves strike again. He nods awkwardly, "Oh, I see... But there will be more?"

"Stiles is helping me choose the new members."

Something about that seems off. He stares at Derek's stoic face for a second before he gets it, "People like me?"

An eyebrow is cocked in reply, so he goes on.

"Desperate. Lonely. _Broken_." His voice cracks on the last one. To the man's credit, he manages to look a little apologetic.

"I'd like to think I'm offering a better life here. An opportunity."

He hates how lost he sounds when he asks, "Are you? Are you, really?"

Isaac swears Derek's eyes soften their glare a little, "You tell me. Why are you considering becoming a werewolf?"

He swallows, mouth going dry at the thought of explaining his reasons. It would be much easier to... He glances around the empty graveyard before making up his mind.

"I'll come back later and call the police about this but right now... I'd rather show you than tell you."

Derek's brows shoot up in surprise but he shrugs in agreement, motioning for Isaac to lead the way. He leads. He takes Derek back to his house to show him why. To show him the basement.

* * *

His head hurts so bad, he's moaning in pain even before he opens his eyes. But when he does, it doesn't take long to figure out that he's in deep shit. Deeper than ever before. And his headache, _oh wow his concussion_, is like the least of his worries right now. Because he recognizes the not-so-stunning front porch of the Hale house, that he's lying on. He recognizes the redhead that's still in her hospital gown (oh, he is too, excellent), shivering and clutching her head, knees up against her fists that are clenched in her hair, and all around looking like she's having a total mental breakdown.

And when he looks to the side, he sees a fire dancing right there, a few feet from the porch and behind the fire is a woman he _doesn't_recognize. Her hair color's the same as Lydia's but her features are sharp, her cheeks are hollow, her eyes are like two glittering beacons, staring straight at him and her smile. He thought he'd seen true evil when he met Peter Hale, but he's gotta say, _Sorry, Peter... Looks like you're the winner of the silver medal on this one._

"Look who's finally joined the party, Lydia."

The girl's head flies up and Stiles can't bring himself to get up, to sit up, to move so he just stares in horror at the person he thinks he's in love with. Her eyes are crazed, her cheeks are wet with tears and caked with mud and Stiles wants to get up so badly so he could go over there and put his arms around her and whisper stupid shit like, "Shh, it's going to be okay." He knows it doesn't really help, he's been through the mantras with his dad, when the man tried to be strong for Stiles, tried not to break down as well, tried to comfort. The words don't help, but the intent behind them means something. Which is why Stiles does his best under the current circumstances.

"It's okay." He whispers, croaks actually. His voice has obviously abandoned him, so screaming is out of the question as well. It's sad. Stiles is a great screamer.

"No, no, it's not okay," Lydia replies, voice heavy and nasally. "I'm so sorry, I'm _so sorry_-" And Lydia hides her face again, keeps repeating it softly to herself and frankly, Stiles has never been more terrified in his life. He looks back towards the fire, the woman and he remembers a little why Lydia should be feeling sorry.

His gaze returns to the younger redhead, managing to feel a bit outraged for his current condition, "You zapped me!" He shouts, or whisper-shouts pathetically. "I... Did you have a taser, or something?" He relaxes his neck, resting his head on the wooden floor once more, starting to feel a little numb from too much pain, too much crazy._ Is this even real?_ "I don't remember you having a taser," he stupidly whispers to himself, for some reason so sure it was an important fact to remember.

"Oh, my darling little sister needs no taser, Stiles."

Damn, she's closer. She's coming up the steps. And _yay_ for Stiles, she's leaning over him, still smiling and fuck, he's never been more creeped out in his life. He takes back anything bad he said or thought about Peter. Peter was a puppy, Peter would be a welcome replacement right about now.

Her nails are long and claw-like, he notices, as they slowly scratch down his cheek. He would be shivering if his body wasn't so focused on being frozen from shock. That must be it.

"Who are you? What do you want from us?"

She grins, her head bobbing a little on her long, thin neck as she turns her head to look at Lydia, who's dropped her hands, straightened her legs and has stopped her mantra of apologies. Instead, she's staring into space with such an empty expression that Stiles feels his fear kick up a notch, and he really didn't think that was possible anymore.

"Well my new sister over there was kind enough to donate some of her power to me. You see," she turns back to him and Stiles gets caught in her eyes, abyssal and intense, "magic wears off. Fades away. Unless, you're born with it." She whispers the last words at him, her breath a hideous mixture of every smell Stiles has ever hated. He whimpers in disgust and she laughs, delighted. "And Lydia over there has an endless supply. So much potential and she has no idea what to do with it. So I'll be using it instead. Magic needs to be used, Stiles. Otherwise it will build up and up until you do something terrible with it. So really, I'm helping her."

Stiles snorts. No, really, he snorts. Apparently, he just can't be tamed. That awful Miley Cyrus song (that he secretly likes) starts to play in his head and he wants to laugh until he cries because this is just _ridiculous_.

"Let's agree to disagree on the helping part," he says instead, cringing when her smile slowly disappears.

And now he takes back the gold medal for glaring from Derek and silently awards the woman in front of him because he can practically feel her glare causing him pain. Can feel little sparks on his skin that are gaining strength and growing brighter.

_Wait_.

He finally panics enough to push up onto his elbows so he can take in her bony, long-fingered hand hovering over his stomach and pulsing with electricity.

Huh. Guess Lydia really didn't have a taser after all.

"What are you d-doing?" He whimpers because the pain is taking over his every cell now, making him feel like something wrong is being pushed into him and at the same time, like his very core is being drawn out in agonizing bursts.

"Taking back what's mine," her voice is even hoarser, rougher with a hint of an echo behind it. It sounds _unreal_.

He's fallen back onto the floor and his body is finally moving, except it's to wither in torment not to run away like he hoped, like he usually does. He's good at running away.

He just wants to run away.

"I didn't take... I didn't take anything-_Motherf_-I didn't take anything from you, you _goddamn_ bitch, _Jesus Christ_!" At least his voice is returning, his ability to scream in higher octaves like a girl has never been more welcomed by him.

"I'm taking back what Peter took from me. And he gave it to you, so _hush_ now, stop resisting and let me drag it out of you. I'll be done soon and I'll be gone. I promise."

"No, no-" Peter didn't give him anything but nightmares and hallucinations and okay, wounds that wouldn't heal but that's no reason to come and give him shock therapy. Or mess up the woman he was going to marry! He's worried that won't happen now, because instead of "I do", Lydia's going to be muttering "I'm so sorry" throughout the whole ceremony and that is _unacceptable_.

He doesn't know from where or how, but he finds the strength within him to resist the current flowing through him, finds a way to push her out.

By the look on her face, she's just as surprised by this turn of events as Stiles.

Out of nowhere, he starts giggling. His sanity is long gone at this point, _holy hell_.

"Not so tough now, huh?" And why is he goading the crazy witch with magic fingers that can probably fry him til he's so crispy not even his own father will recognize his corpse!?

Bad idea to think about corpses. Giggling is replaced with hyperventilating. Not the best trade right now.

"I guess I underestimated Peter. The connection's already too strong for a simple extraction." She looks frustrated, angry. Stiles hopes she won't take it out on him. To his surprise, though, she stands, sends him one last disgusted look and then quickly walks over to Lydia, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her up into a standing position.

He manages a noise of protest, gasping out, "Don't-Please-"

When she turns to look at him, she's smiling again. Stiles' breath stutters.

"She's my sister now. Where I go, she goes." And on that light note, she makes a quick escape towards the woods, Lydia following obediently with the same empty expression on her face. He tries calling out to her, but his throat's feeling scratchy, there's bile rising up and- _oh_. He uses his last remaining strength to push himself onto his side so he won't choke and die on his vomit, because if he survived meeting The Bitch of the Year, he's damn well gonna survive a little puking. Except it turns out to be not that little.

When he's finally finished he falls back onto his back and blinks tiredly as his eyes well up with tears. His whole body is throbbing, shivering, in pain and cold. His head still feels like it's plotting his murder and his mind... He's really starting to lose it and he's getting kind of tired feeling this afraid all the time. No human can manage this much fear. He's going to have a heart attack soon if these attacks on his person continue and he so won't be happy about it.

Stiles wonders if anybody's coming for him. He hopes that his dad had enough sense to include the werewolves on this one because _hello_, personal tracking dogs, very helpful in a situation like this.

He hopes they get here in time.

It's quite possible to freeze to death.

He thinks he might be dying of other reasons as well, worries that the woman did permanent damage to his insides, wonders if his concussion is even worse now, and keeps on going with this line of thought until he's having a full-blown panic attack, something he hasn't experienced since the early weeks after his mother's death when he couldn't cope, when it kept hitting him so suddenly, that she wouldn't be in the kitchen, that she won't be waiting for him at home, that she's never coming back, _ever_.

And now he can't breathe and faintly thinks that yeah, he's going to die from a panic attack. What a way to go.

_Shh_.

"Oh, no- Not- Not you-" he gasps out, eyes wide as they take in the burnt husk of a man lying down next to him. He's full on sobbing now, not gonna deny it.

_You did so good, Stiles. Held out so beautifully, let me do this for you in return._

Do what? He wants to ask but really doesn't have the breath for it.

_Shh_. An arm, the burnt arm of Peter Hale's corpse is wrapping around his torso and pulling him in against the man, and he _burns_, he burns like the fire the Hale house was filled with, like the fire Stiles and Jackson covered him in, like the electricity the woman tortured him with.

But it's warming him from inside out, it's calming him, soothing even.

_You did good. Now, rest. I need you, Stiles. I need you to hold out just a little while longer._

His breathing is normalized. He's not in pain anymore, not cold, not in shock - he should be all of those things, but he just... isn't. He can feel Peter's breaths hitting his cheek just like before, only this time it's causing him to relax, to feel safe. The man may be a corpse but at least he doesn't smell like a combination of everything that Stiles hates. Now that was a new and completely disgusting experience and he never wants to think about it again.

Stiles' eyes are closing and he should be freaking out. A dead man is hugging him, comforting him and it's actually working, he's in all honesty enjoying this. But he's too tired think about it for too long, worn out and _so_ warm.

In the man's embrace, Stiles calms down enough to rest.

* * *

tbc.

QT05 - Yup, you assume correctly about Derek 'canoodling' with a boy. It's the reason the Sheriff got the idea of him and his son in his head, since he _knows_ that Derek has been interested in the same gender before ;P I really don't get everyone's fascination with Lydia and Jackson and how they keep explaining their bitchiness as a result of adoption and divorce and I don't know what... The thing is, I like Lydia but hate the way she treats Stiles. That scene in the last episode where Stiles begs her not to go after Jackson? Yeah, hated it. And Jackson? Oh boy, all I see is a _douchebag_. I mean in S2, in most episodes he didn't _care the slightest_ about Lydia or anyone else besides himself. And then at the end I'm just supposed to believe that he actually loved her all along? I just.. I have a lot of frustration with the Jydia pairing. Clearly. O_O Hope you liked this chapter as well! Story's finally really kicking in :D


	8. Seek Me Out and You'll Get Answers

Seek Me Out and You'll Get Answers

* * *

He considers the night a success. Isaac may have asked for more time but the desperation was there. Derek could see it in every movement, every look, every hesitant smile - the kid _wants_ the bite. He can easily imagine Lahey becoming a loyal beta out of gratitude alone especially after what he saw in the basement. He suspects Stiles actually didn't know just how bad Isaac's life really was, but nonetheless the boy made a good choice, proving to Derek once more how helpful the other can be.

He's in his car, about to start the engine when he hesitates. He's considering texting Stiles, to see how he's feeling (just so he knows how much his plans of getting a pack as quickly as possible have been set back, _really_) when his phone starts ringing, _Scott's _name lighting up the screen.

He already has a feeling this is going to be bad news.

"What's happened?"

"It's Stiles! He and Lydia just disappeared from the hospital a few hours ago! I got his scent and I've been trying to track him but I think I might be _really_ bad at this because I've been running around the woods in circles and he's not here but we have to find him, he's got a concussion and he shouldn't be out of bed and Lydia shouldn't be moving around either and-"

"Scott. Calm down." He lets his wolf merge with him a little, to use an Alpha's influence over a beta, an _omega_. He can hear the kid's breaths slow down, can practically feel him calming.

"Yes, okay. Are you going to help?"

"I am, keep on looking, I'll go to the hospital to get the scent." He quickly ends the call, hand at the ignition. His Camaro's tires squeal as he takes off, forcefully accelerating. His fingers are already moving on his phone, looking up a number he hasn't really called yet, hoped he wouldn't have to, either.

"What the hell do _you_ want?"

"Stiles and Lydia are missing from the hospital."

"Yeah, I heard." Jackson's snide tone is just aggravating Derek further. "I'm already looking for her."

"Did you get Stiles' scent as well?"

"Are you kidding me? Why would I want to put my nose anywhere near that loser?"

"Jackson-"

"No, we've talked about this. Just because you gave me _the bite_ doesn't mean I'm part of your wolf pack, buddy. Now don't call me again, I'm _busy_."

The kid hangs up on him and Derek throws the phone on the passenger seat, unable to hold back the snarl that rips out of his throat, fangs growing out and claws digging into the wheel.

He's going to _hurt_ Jackson the next time he sees him.

* * *

Scott's freaking out. And he's not the only one, _everybody's_ freaking out and somehow that just makes him freak out even more - of course for him, Allison, Jackson and Derek the reason to freak out is a little different than for others. Lydia was _bitten_. She wasn't healing so they all assumed she had somehow escaped becoming a werewolf but now she's disappeared, with Stiles. This doesn't look good.

He's feeling so guilty, _God_. He's running around the woods, wolfed out, frantic . This is his buddy, his best friend, his brother in every way but blood and he's in danger, has been in danger for a while now all because Scott's a werewolf, because Scott can't distance himself from Stiles. It's such a reflexive action - when in need, call your best friend ; when confused or hurt, call your best friend - it's what they do, it's how they are.

And now Stiles is _gone_, could be dying, could be dead already and Scott has to pause at that thought, has to take a deep breath to keep it together. A second later, out of pure desperation the new part of him - the _wolf_ takes over and his senses somehow go even further, he can suddenly smell Stiles so clearly, can almost see the path he had taken right before him.

He's going to do this, he's going to find his best friend and he's going to keep him safe. If he can't even do that, if he can't keep his loved ones safe then what's the point of being a werewolf?

* * *

The Sheriff is standing awkwardly by the door, as if guarding it so no one can see the odd picture in front of him - Derek hunched over the hospital bed his son was sleeping in just a few hours ago. The young man's hands have formed fists around the sheets as he takes in deep breaths, taking in Stiles' scent apparently.

He can't see the other's expression from where he's standing but he notices how Derek gives a disgusted huff and a shake of his head, giving up his hold on the sheets to straighten up and head for the bathroom.

"What is it?"

Derek's standing in the middle of the bathroom, just breathing when he replies, "It stinks in here."

Sheriff Stilinski's eyes narrow as he questions, "Are you insulting my son's body odor?"

The other turns around so the man can clearly see the eye-roll.

" No. It stinks of ... " He pauses, glancing at the Sheriff hesitatingly.

"Of what?" His hands rest on his hips, his eyebrows scrunch up apprehensively. He has a feeling he won't like what Derek's about to say.

Derek huffs again, grimacing in obvious distaste as he returns from the bathroom, pulling out his cellphone and already calling someone when he absentmindedly answers the Sheriff's question, "Borrowed magic."

And that's... _What_? "What?"

But Derek's not paying attention to him anymore, so the man listens closely to the one-sided conversation he's overhearing.

"What do you know about witches?" Derek says, not even bothering with greetings. For a moment, he's listening to the person on the other side and then he sighs heavily, "Because Stiles and Lydia disappeared from the hospital a few hours ago and I'm at the hospital and it smells of magic." He pauses, frowning and pursing his lips in frustration, "Does it matter how I know what magic smells like? The important thing here is that a witch is in town and I don't know how to stop her."

"Wait... you think a _witch_ has stolen my son and Lydia Martin!?"

Derek glares and doesn't reply. The Sheriff feels oddly chastised but at the same time outraged.

"This is my son we're talking about here, you're not shutting me out." He meets the other's glare head-on, closing the door fully and taking a few steps towards the younger man.

The other doesn't look happy about that but nods, otherwise still focused on his phonecall.

"I know that. It's the reason I'm calling you in the first place. Do you know of something to, I don't know, block their power?" Derek's face doesn't look promising and not for the first time that night the Sheriff feels a hopeless worry for his son, a suffocating feeling of _helplessness_ washing over him - because how is he supposed to keep Stiles safe from _this_? Werewolves, witches, magic. He's just one man. Trained to fight criminals, _human_ criminals. Not this.

But as he looks at the young man in front of him, as he takes in the agitation, the concern, as he remembers the way Scott earnestly promised him that he'd find Stiles before he ran off, he can't help but feel grateful for them. Derek may not seem like the most trustworthy kind of guy, especially considering how easy it was for him to drag a couple of teenagers into his life-or-death mess with the former Alpha, but he obviously doesn't plan to sit on the sidelines while the younger ones run around, getting themselves into dangerous situations like they're so prone to do. And Scott. That kid has such a big heart and he's glad Stiles talked him out of separating them. They obviously need each other, have grown just too close to be torn apart now.

He's not alone in this. There are other people who care about Stiles' welfare. _He's not alone_.

"...keep looking and I'll go join Scott." He tunes back into the conversation, sees Derek roll his eyes in irritation, "I know it's not safe for us to be out there, but it's not safe for Stiles either. I can't just sit here and wait for you to find a solution, Deacon-" _The vet!?_ "-We don't know what the witch wants and why she took two teenagers into the woods with her but obviously it's not for something good. It never is with these things."

He holds himself back from thinking too much about the fact that Derek seems to be focusing a lot on Stiles, instead of both Stiles and Lydia. That leads back to the thoughts he had back at home, and he's not up to imagining his son _with_ the twenty-three-year-old man in front of him.

"Call me when you find something useful." Derek hangs up and pockets his phone before meeting the Sheriff's gaze again.

"Well?" He doesn't know what he's exactly asking for, an explanation perhaps but mostly he's just impatient and feels the need to get out there and start looking as well.

"I'll explain later but right now I have to go."

He manages to grab the other's arm before he disappears again, "Wait, I'm coming with you." And then he gets to _feel_ the strength of a werewolf as Derek shrugs off his hold and pushes him firmly against the wall. He's not ashamed to admit he's a little bit frightened of the other, because he's not _human_. He's stronger and faster and from what he's been told, his gun will have no effect on him either.

"You're staying here."

"My son-"

"Would be very upset and _annoying_ if I allowed you to endanger yourself like that. I'm handling it. If I need help, I'll call. If I find him, I'll call."

Derek waits for a moment, hand slowly yet firmly putting pressure on the Sheriff's chest, enough to make it hurt but not to bruise. In the end, he gives in and nods.

"Fine, but if you haven't found him by morning I _will_ join the search."

The other rolls his eyes but releases him, quickly exiting the room.

He doesn't know what to do so to keep himself busy he leaves the hospital and goes to the station. He couldn't bear to be at home right now, without Stiles. He works, but keeps an eye on his phone, hoping for it to ring.

* * *

Jackson needs to have a serious talk with Lydia because this running after her, worried and frantic seems to be turning into a thing. And he's not okay with this. He has better things to do like _sleep_ than run around wolfed out in the woods like an idiot, trying to find her by smell alone. She's not usually the damsel in distress, it's one of the reasons he liked her in the first place. Because under that facade she seemed strong as a rock and Jackson loved her, _envied_ her for it.

Now, they're not even together and Jackson still finds himself concerned about her, wanting to protect her. In fact, after becoming a werewolf the need to keep her safe has somehow overcome any other feeling. Lydia has become more important than everything else and it bugs him. It's not how he is, his life does not revolve around one chick and yet somehow now it does.

He's been visiting the hospital every day, not going in, not actually seeing her but just staying close enough to hear her heartbeat, to make sure she's okay. It was pathetic, he hates himself for it but he couldn't stop.

And now he's realizing that he's coming closer and closer to the Hale house and isn't that fun. Dealing with Derek Hale and his creepy burnt down shed was something he hoped to never be faced with. The guy's his Alpha, even though Jackson's completely against being part of a pack of _losers_. He has a feeling the man has tricks up his sleeve to make Jackson obey against his will which is why he's done his best to stay out of the other's way so far.

But he can faintly smell Lydia, has memorized her scent fairly well after all of his visits and can already feel his instincts urging him to just go ahead and run because if she's at the Hale house then that's where he has to be as well.

Jackson is _this_ close to regretting becoming a werewolf, despite all the perks. He never figured he'd become so needy and desperate. But here he is, heading towards their town's own ghost house, all because of one. stupid. girl.

Half-way there he hears the voices and stops. There are men, _hunters_ Jackson thinks. And... Scott?

He carefully eases his way through the trees, hiding behind a thick one as he peeks at what seems to be Allison's dad speaking to Scott who is_ hanging upside down_.

Seriously, how is this guy even alive?

He doesn't bother listening to their little conversation for he has no time for that. Because he can suddenly smell something absolutely disgusting and _foul_. It makes him gag, he even has to spit out some bile. Curiosity wins over common sense and with grace and speed, he goes around the traps and the hunters and finds himself standing on the porch, staring at Stiles. Staring at Stiles' _still_ body. His claws slowly retract, as do his fangs as he regains his normal form. For a moment he thinks the guy's dead but then he hears it, a faint heartbeat, so faint he barely heard it through the rushing in his ears. He expected to find Lydia with a maniacal Stiles, who had stolen her from the hospital or something. He didn't expect to find the other teenager lying here, naked but for the hospital gown, lips blue, skin pale and smelling like everything Jackson's ever hated.

He steps closer, hesitant. He never really liked Stiles, but never hated him either. He found him annoying and aggravating, but mostly ignored him. Sometimes enjoyed bullying him, for Stiles has the best reactions. But now looking at the other boy, so still and looking so broken he can't help but feel a pang of sympathy, of worry even. He takes another step and before he realises it, he's doing his best not to vomit all over the other's body as he gathers him up in his arms. The guy's limbs flop around and his head falls back, mouth wide open and Jackson finds himself smirking.

Even near death, Stiles manages to be graceless and awkward. Must be a talent.

He's striding away from the porch when Scott reaches them, apparently having managed to cut himself loose from both the hunter's trap and the hunter.

"Oh my God, Stiles! Jackson?" It's actually funny how fast Scott's face goes from horror to confused.

"Did you bring a car?"

"What?"

"Did you bring a car? Or did you plan on carrying Stiles to the hospital with your _inhuman_ strength."

From Scott's silence, Jackson can figure out the answer for himself and he huffs mockingly, "I'm taking him to the hospital."

Scott keeps up with his strides, "You can give me your keys and I'll take him. I'm sure you wanna keep looking for Lydia."

He's surprised by the other's thoughtfulness and is even grateful for it. But...

"No way am I letting you drive my car, McCall. You keep looking for Lydia."

"Fine, just... be careful with him."

He lets out another huff, "Call Derek and tell him to focus on Lydia."

"Oh, right."

He leaves Scott behind in the woods and heads back to his car, with Stiles' limp body a dead weight in his arms.

* * *

Derek is furious. After receiving Scott's call about Stiles and Jackson it was so hard to keep his rage in, but he managed long enough to give the teenager instructions to search for Lydia around the Hale house. While Derek headed straight to the empty warehouse district he just recently decided to claim as his. Because that's where the trail of the witch's scent led him.

His eyes turn Alpha red as his instincts take over, the need to _hurt_, to take revenge so strong he's sure he'll rip the witch to shreds as soon as he sees her.

This is his territory now, has been his family's territory for decades and witches know better than to mess with a pack. With their magic tricks they can easily overpower a single werewolf but are overcome when confronted with a group of them. Derek realizes the witch probably knows he's alone, but he hopes she wasn't expecting an Alpha. It's his only advantage, the moment of surprise. That and Scott, but he won't be so quick to endanger the teenager anymore. If he wants Scott to join his pack, be a part of his family, he's got to do this right. He has to protect him first and foremost.

But as he bursts in, seeing the witch standing by the subway train car, he can hardly get out a roar, intended to intimidate when a current hits him in the chest. The pain grounds him, his wolf receding as he falls the last few steps, stumbling to the ground, twitching. He's never been good with electricity and it brings back flashes of Kate's smiling face as she blasted volts upon volts through his body, enjoying his torment. He's not screaming, would never give the witch that satisfaction but he can't stop his muscles from twitching even after the current's dissipated.

"Now listen closely, pup," Her dark voice speaks clearly of her age, of her power to him as it resonates around the empty space. Her glittering black eyes show no fear, her heartbeat stays steady through every word, "Because I'm going to explain the rules of this game we're about to play." A wide smile crosses her lips, a finishing touch to the look of a mad woman. "Rule number one," She loosely waves her fingers at him and a small current whips out, hitting him in the chest.

It's not as strong as the last one, which is why he manages to twitch through the pain and then push himself up. He staggers but in the end, remains standing, stubborn.

She seems to appreciate it, tilting her head in admiration but keeps speaking as if he hadn't caused her to hesitate, "You stay out of my business and _maybe_ I'll stay out of yours."

"I think you just broke your own rule," He grits out. At the questioning quirk of her eyebrow, he elaborates, "You hurt someone under my protection."

The woman's eyes narrow, smile disappearing and Derek feels a shiver at the base of his spine at how evil and unnatural she seems.

"Since when do werewolves care about humans? If they were part of your pack, I would've sensed it so don't even try to lie about that." Her words are influenced by her anger, making them sound harsh and grating.

"Does it matter? I've sworn to protect one of the teenagers you took, so that rule doesn't apply anymore." He decides not to go into the details of that protection deal, if the witch finds out it was just a deal he made with the local Sheriff... he doesn't think she'll find that meaningful much.

"Just one?" She lights up again, as if it were her lucky day, "Is it the girl? Have we grown _fond_ of her? She is the source of my power but I'm willing to trade her for a promise not to interfere with my business here in Beacon Hills." She raises her chin haughtily, sending another current at Derek, making him stagger backwards against the wall. "Besides, I think I've got enough of her power to last during my stay. Although, it is _tempting_ to take her with me when I finally do leave." She stares at her fingers in wonder as electricity crackles between them. "Most magic has a nature of the elements about it, some flow like water within you, some warm you like fire and you can see where I'm going with this, but _hers_... Hers lights you up in a way I've never felt before. Natural witches are a dying breed and even so she's absolutely unique among her kind..."

He's breathing harshly after the last current, glaring at the woman who's still so focused on the magic flowing out of her, she seems to have forgotten his presence.

"No." He grunts and enjoys how she snaps back to attention, fingers curving into a loose fist.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not the girl."

She smiles grimly, all business again, "Then I'm afraid we won't be able to make a deal after all. The boy's the reason I'm even here."

"Why are you so interested in Stiles?" He asks, mind whirring. If he can't make some kind of a pact, he'll need information about why the witch is after the teenager in the first place. He understands Lydia's involvement now, but the interest in Stiles makes no sense. Perhaps if she'll share, he can later discuss it with Deacon and they can find a way to keep him safe from all of this.

"He has something that was taken from me." Her arms go behind her back, hands clasped together as she hums in thought, "Actually you could say this started with your uncle."

"Peter?" That's great. Even in death, his uncle manages to cause him trouble.

"He stole my sister's magic." All humor is gone from her face, anger and despair remaining. "My sister was but a child and she was drained to death by your uncle with the help of some _witch doctor_." She spits out the last words in disgust. "He had a vial, a container of sorts and used it to hold the magic; I always wondered what he would end up doing with it, why he would need it. I guess, now I know."

He shakes his head in confusion, "What has any of this got to do with Stiles?"

She's smiling again. Derek's figured out that her amusement is not a good thing. "Peter used the boy as a container. I don't know when he transferred the magic into him, but it's there now. And along with it," her eyes light up and he can see an idea forming inside her mind as her eyes flutter about before settling on him again, "A connection so deep it might just bring him back."

He breathes in deeply to settle his frustration, tells himself he's lucky the witch is even speaking to him, "I thought not everyone can contain magic?" He decides to start from the beginning, before he even dares to let the thought of his uncle back, _alive_ cross his mind.

"They can't. Your boy, _Stiles_, is special. He's the perfect container, can't use any magic himself but strong of mind, strong of body and able to contain any quantity of any magic. He'd be the perfect little box for any borrower to carry around."

"Is that why you want him?"

"No, all I want is my sister's magic back. It needs to stay in the family. If I have that, I won't have to borrow from anyone anymore."

"And how can it bring my uncle back?"

"Oh, honey..." she seems almost sympathetic for a moment, "He's already half-way back from the dead." The woman chuckles at his apparent shock, "The connection has been consolidated due to a _bond_ that goes further than magic. An emotional, spiritual bond, something Peter most likely initiated with full knowledge of how it would affect the connection. I'm surprised you didn't know of this if the boy is truly under your protection."

He sees her suspicion but refuses to acknowledge it, "Can it be stopped?"

"If you let me," this time her smile is obviously an attempt to make her seem friendly and helpful. Derek snarls weakly in reply causing her to laugh, "The connection can only be severed if either Stiles dies as well _or_ if I remove the magic from him. "

"And you removed it tonight?" He was already wondering why the witch left Stiles behind, if he was so valuable to her.

"Alas, a simple extraction won't be enough anymore. I needed to harvest some more energy from the girl, to be ready for a full draining. It would remove any containing abilities the boy has but as I understand, he had no knowledge of it before and therefore probably won't miss them."

"Will it hurt him?"

"Oh, _yes_." And she seems to enjoy the idea, making Derek furious enough to wolf out again, his snarl stronger and louder than before.

"Will it kill him?" He growls, shifting his weight, restless as his wolf tells him to attack the _enemy_ on his territory.

She hesitates, "It might."

"No deal."

"Are you fully prepared to deal with the consequences? With Peter? I fear he might come back stronger than ever."

"As an Alpha?"

"No, not physically per say. Mentally, emotionally. He was quite a manipulative and tricky bastard, wasn't he?"

He huffs in silent agreement, mind in turmoil. He really doesn't know what he'll do if Peter returns. He's all alone, no other Hales left and killing the last of his family had been more painful and tormenting than Scott and the other teenagers could ever understand, but Peter had killed his _sister_. His sister, who even when the whole pack had been alive, had been his closest relative, his best friend. When the pack was killed, they drifted apart and the regret of letting that happen stills fills him up even now.

"Is there no way you can guarantee Stiles' safety?"

"No." Her fingers flick towards him and he is unable to hold back a flinch. He growls deeply when there is no current, just the sound of her laughter grating his ears. "I can't. But I'll give you time. A week. You need to decide whether you'll give me Stiles and perhaps everyone can live after I'm finished, or I'll kill you, anyone who gets in my way and in the end Stiles as well. The longer you wait, the stronger the connection will be, the harder it will be for me to drain the magic and the more likely it will be for me to _accidentally_ kill your boy. Also, I'm not quite sure how or when Peter would return with the boy as his anchor, but no doubt it will be soon. Who knows, maybe even in a week."

He tenses up at the word '_anchor_' because that hints at another word Derek is quite displeased to think of regarding his uncle and _Stiles_, of all people. But he lets it go for now, keeps his wolf out as the woman nears him, on her way outside.

"Keep in touch?"

He roars in response, trembling a little when it has no effect on her whatsoever. In return, she flicks another current at him, a stronger one this time and he falls to the floor, helpless.

"Need I remind you of your place? Without a pack, you're nothing but a puppy when faced with a witch, dear." She smiles again, ignores his glares and turns her head back towards the cart.

"Come now, Lydia. We're leaving."

His head snaps up in surprise as the girl stumbles towards them. He hadn't sensed her, heard her or even smelt her. He looks up at the witch who is taking in his reaction, a proud smirk playing on her lips.

"I have ways of protecting what's mine. When I finally have Stiles? You won't be able to find him again. You might be able to find me, but I'll make sure he'll be untraceable. Just like Lydia over here." She places a gentle hand on the other's head. Derek frowns when Lydia flinches as if she's been slapped. "Come now. We need to find a place for us two gals, because I don't know about you but I'm knackered." Cheerfully, she starts up the stairs but Lydia doesn't follow right away, instead looks at Derek with the biggest eyes he's ever seen, traces of hysteria shining through. He pities her because he has a feeling her mind won't ever be the same after this is all over.

"Tell Stiles I'm so sorry. And tell Jackson to stop looking." Her eyes trail away, looking at nothing as she whispers to herself, "There's no point."

"Lydia." A sharp command and this time the girl obeys, almost tripping over herself to follow her master as quickly as possible.

For a while, Derek just lies there, overcome by the decisions he has to make, the horrid consequences whichever choice he makes. Finally, he stands up, decides he might as well take it one step at a time.

First step, make sure Stiles is okay for now.

Next step, talk to Deacon. If there is a way to overpower the witch, he needs to know of it now rather than later. Because then there might be a chance for him to forget the choices she gave him and create a third option.

One, where everyone gets to live.

Only then he might have to deal with the fact, that a certain person, who's currently dead and buried, gets to live as well.

* * *

tbc.

some reveals in this chapter, am hoping to hear your thoughts?


	9. Stand By Me and I'll Trust You

Stand By Me and I'll Trust You

* * *

"Ugh, ngh, _gah_,"

"Is it too bright? I'll shut the drapes."

He remembers this, waking up in the hospital with a blinding headache - he's _done_ this already.

"Did I go back in time or something?" He finally manages to open his eyes and take in the slightly dimmer, otherwise very familiar room. His dad is standing right next to his bed, eyes worried as he grasps Stiles' hand.

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

He frowns, finding his memories a bit hazy, "The car crash? And then you were here, and bathroom, and... then, nothing. Did I pass out and hit my head again? 'Cause it feels like I hit my head again," He mutters the last part to himself, eyes sliding shut as he grimaces in pain. The headache's a violent throb in the back of his head and he wishes for it to just stop already.

"Do you need some more painkillers?"

"Yes, please, thank you," he mumbles quietly.

Only after his father rushes away to find a nurse does he realize he didn't get an answer to his question. His worry fades away, though, when his eyes open to flicker around the room and find the tense figure leaning against the window sill, because_ holy shit_.

"Derek?" He asks weakly, mouth gaping ridiculously. "Does my father know you're here?"

The man rolls his eyes as he straightens, pushing himself away from the sill and coming nearer to hover over Stiles' lying form.

"Considering that he was just here and he's not blind, yeah. He knows."

"And he's okay with it?"

"No."

This is really weird. And distressing. "What's going on?" He asks, weakly trying to push himself up into a sitting position because Derek's hovering is making him nervous and he would like his line of sight to be a bit higher, thank you very much.

"Stop." Derek commands gruffly and Stiles hesitates. His breath stutters out in surprise when there are strong hands around his arms, helping him up and an arm supporting him from the front as Derek's other hand busies itself with pushing the pillows up, so Stiles can lean his back against them. This is something people do to those they care about. Since when does Derek care about Stiles?

"Comfortable?" Derek asks as he leans back to sit on the bed. He's next to Stiles' legs, so the proximity isn't that frightening, considering how the werewolf has been all up in his face before, but the fact that he's in a hospital and Derek is by his bed as if he's worried, that's what concerns him.

"Did I wake up in an alternate reality where you actually care about what happens to me? Because this is weird, man."

The man looks awkward as he glances at the door over his shoulder before sighing and completely avoiding the question, "You really don't remember anything about last night?"

"Well... the hospital?"

"After the hospital."

Stiles tries, he really does, but he comes up with nothing so he shrugs slightly, "Nope, my mind's kind of blank." And then he starts to think of the days that have passed, "Hold on, I got drunk on Monday, then you told my dad and made that stupid deal, that was absolutely pointless considering you're here now, sitting on my hospital bed, for Christ's sake," he breathes out heavily and lets it go for now, continuing, "On Wednesday I lured Isaac into our little wolf-trap and got into a car crash and so now it's Thursday?"

"Yes."

"Wait, what time is it, when am I getting out of here?"

"You're not going anywhere until you're fully healed, young man," And there's his favorite nurse, bringing in a paper cup containing pills that will hopefully magic Stiles' pain away.

"I remember you, though," Stiles grins, happily accepting the medicine as well as the water his father hands him. He smacks his lips, satisfied and then winks at the woman, "Remember the babies? Offer still stands." She huffs in amusement and then turns to check something on his chart.

His father looks bemused while Derek seems to be ignoring everyone else in the room, surprisingly still sitting next to Stiles' legs even though the Sheriff keeps sending these _looks_ at his leather-clad back and Stiles thinks he even sees his dad's fingers twitching near his holster, which, _not good_.

"Um, so Derek was just leaving, right?"

"Right," his dad agrees readily.

Derek stands up willingly but hesitates, hovering over the teenager, who is still freaking out about the whole Derek showing compassion thing that seems to be happening here.

"Call Scott afterwards, he'll explain what happened last night."

"Wait, what _did_ happen?"

The infuriating werewolf refuses to answer, now deeming it to be a good time to get the hell out of there, leaving Stiles shouting his name in panicked anger. When the man disappears into the hallway and the nurse leaves after giving Stiles some weird smiles and winks that he is so not ready to process right now, he turns to his father.

"What happened? What aren't you telling me?"

The Sheriff sighs, faltering a little before placing a hand on Stiles' forehead, "We thought of telling you right away but because you don't remember it and you still have a concussion we think it's best if you recover before we explain everything. Also," he sighs heavily, "Derek refused to tell me the whole story, saying there were some things he wanted to ask you first."

"That... What... You guys _suck_, what am I supposed to do here?"

"Rest? And, I also brought your homework, Scott helped me pick up the stuff you need to go through for next week." And helpfully he gestures at the chair covered in books at the end of the bed.

"Oh, that's great. That's fantastic."

The Sheriff smirks a little at the complete lack of enthusiasm, "How's your head?"

"Still throbbing like a motherf- l mean. Hurts like hell." He ignores the raised eyebrow, as well as the sigh that's the kind of thing only parents manage to do, the sigh that basically spells out '_teenagers_'.

"I'll go grab myself a coffee and perhaps we'll watch some TV?"

He nods, or to be completely accurate, bobs his head and regrets it a moment later as he grimaces. Any kind of movement makes the throbbing increase for a sickeningly _long_ moment.

"Be careful." His dad chastises before giving Stiles' knee a comforting slap and heading for the doorway. He turns back at the last moment to ask, "Do you want something? A soda or a candybar?"

"A soda would be nice, dad." He smiles gratefully. His dad returns the smile before nodding to himself and leaving the room.

Stiles goes back to staring at the schoolbooks.

_Ugh, could someone knock me back unconscious?_

* * *

Scott feels a little overwhelmed. He has a girlfriend who really needs his support right now, his best friend is in the hospital, apparently having survived some kind of a witch attack (he's still waiting on details from Derek) and Lydia is still missing and Jackson seemed incredibly restless at school. The guy snapped at Danny even, coming quite close to changing right there in class. Fortunately, Scott managed to distract him with a well-aimed paper ball and then some meaningful hand gestures. Jackson looked ready to rip his throat open but he managed to nod and calm down somewhat, eyes losing their faint glow.

He hadn't planned on going to the funeral but after seeing Allison in tears, it was the first thing that came to mind. Of course that means asking Deaton to cut his shift a little shorter that afternoon. Which he's about to do as he heads for the backroom.

"Hey, I kind of have to leave a little earlier than planned, I hope that's..." he trails off as he takes in the men having a staring contest and then gapes as they turn their intense stares at him. "...okay? Derek, what the hell are you doing here?" The last time Derek and Deaton were in the same room... well, it hadn't been a friendly get-together and from the tension in the air as well as Deaton's strained smile in welcome, he thinks the doctor hasn't forgotten it either.

"We need to talk," Derek says calmly.

"Uh, about what?" Scott lets his bag fall to the floor as he goes over to stand next to Deaton, showing clearly whose side he's on. He receives a stronger smile in thanks.

"Derek called me last night, when Stiles went missing, asking for my knowledge on witches."

"He called you? Why would he-" He turns to Derek, incredulous, "Why would you assume Deaton knows anything?"

Derek glares but for the first time Scott can tell that the glare isn't _meant_ for him, it's almost as if Derek's uncomfortable about the subject. Deaton saves them both.

"Apparently, Peter shared some information with Derek during their brief moment of unity."

The Alpha sends the vet a disgruntled frown but nods, "He told me that Deaton used to be an adviser of sorts to my family. And that he knows about a lot more than just werewolves."

"A slight exaggeration on his part, I fear," he reminds the younger man.

"Wh- But why didn't you tell me?" Scott demands, sounding wounded.

"It's all in the past. Not to mention, you don't seem to be rather fond of the Hales and I didn't want you to worry about my loyalties."

He blinks in surprise, glancing between the two men, "_Do_ I have to worry about your loyalties? I mean, not that you're supposed to be loyal to me, but..."

"You don't want me to be loyal to Derek, I understand. However, right now, that's not the issue."

Scott takes in Derek's tense figure and hesitantly asks, "What is, then?"

"Stiles," Derek grunts.

"_Stiles_ is the issue?" He expects an emphasized _no_, but he gets an "Exactly," instead and _what_?

Deaton offers Scott a seat, as he sighs, "How about you start from the beginning, Derek? Tell Scott about last night and then I'll share what I know."

Derek doesn't seem to like the idea of being a story-teller, but in the end he caves.

"Fine."

* * *

On Monday, as Stiles is driving to school, he is kind of upset with _everyone_. He'd been home all weekend, trying to contact Scott, to contact Derek even but nope, people are apparently not answering their phones anymore. God, Stiles threw his phone onto the desk in frustration after receiving a text from Scott, saying '_c u tmrw, talk then_' which pissed him off royally because Scott had all weekend to reply to his calls and texts, to tell him what's going on. But no, his best friend was too busy to deal with Stiles. That's just great. _Fan_tastic.

The doctor and his dad said staying in bed, staying put was important or he wouldn't be able to go to school on Monday. He's not that worried about school, he finished all his homework and he imagines he could continue doing independent work til graduation and he'd be fine but if Scott's not talking to him through the phone and is not visiting either, which Stiles had kind of expected from his bro, he always visits Scott when the guy's sick and stuck at home, then he's gotta go to school and corner him.

Stiles had also tried asking his dad who obviously knew something. The Sheriff, however had said he knew little and it really was best if he talked to Scott or Derek first. Easier said than done.

He comes to a screeching halt, his parking a little off and he grimaces as he gets out, patting his Jeep in apology. And at least his best friend has the decency to be there to greet him, coming over with a wave and a hopeful smile.

Stiles however, is done.

"No, _nuh-uh_, don't even try to be all buddy-buddy with me, mister. You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I know, just..." He glances around the parking lot filled with students loitering around before class and he makes a gesture towards Stiles' Jeep, "I can't really explain here."

"...Then why didn't you answer your phone or visit me? What, I'm supposed to wait a whole school day before I get some answers? I think I've waited enough, Scott."

"I'm sorry about that and that's not what I meant. Let's skip the first class?"

He stares in disbelief, "You're already failing two classes, numnuts, are you trying to drop out of high school?"

"No, just... this is important, okay?"

"Ugh, fine. I can afford to miss class because of my perfect grades, you on the other hand- don't come to me asking for help when you need to make up another test."

"Of course I'll come to you, you're my buddy," Scott punches Stiles' shoulder slightly as they settle in. Stiles pauses, keys in hands, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. "You'll help me, right?" Scott looks unsure which is the only reason for Stiles' answer.

"Yeah, of course I will," he sighs turning to start the car. "Where are we going?"

* * *

"Wait, so, what's the plan exactly?" He asks quietly, shivering as he zips up his jacket. They're sitting on a picnic table, legs resting on the bench, side-by-side. To anyone walking by the park, this would probably look like they're just two dudes, chilling, hanging out, possibly doing something illegal. But it's actually Scott and Stiles freaking out, because _their life_.

"Um... I don't think there is a plan right now?"

"No plan? How can there be no plan? Is Derek a complete moron, or something?"

"No! It's just..." Stiles remembers how Scott sometimes has a difficulty with words, oddly enough Derek seems to have the same problem and Stiles can't help but think that these guys _need_ him, because he's a talker and every group needs a talker. Oh God, Derek and Scott actually talked about _him_, he's so the life of this party. "There's not much we can do. Derek's asking around, calling his old contacts, Deaton's doing the same... neither of them really knows anything about witches, I mean, they know that they exist but no one knows how to stop them, how to block their power so that werewolves could y'know..." He makes imaginary claws with his hands and snarls effectively, "do their thing."

"Oh. Okay. So. I can't really do anything to protect myself? Or to help find Lydia? I'm, what, just supposed to go to school like everything's fine, like everything's normal and there isn't a psychopathic witch in town trying to _drain me_, Jesus Christ this is ridiculous!" By the end of that tirade, he's up and pacing, hands restlessly flopping around, "This is not how this was supposed to go, Peter is dead and gone and shouldn't even be a problem anymore, _you__'re _supposed to come to your senses and join Derek's pack, Allison is supposed to choose once and for all on whose side she'd rather be, her family's or yours and I'm? I'm supposed to live my life, happily _occasionally_ helping werewolves but otherwise staying out of danger and staying _alive _because if I died, it would _ruin_ my dad, Scott. I can't do that to my dad."

"You're not going to die."

"Oh don't try to be all macho with the '_I won't _let_ you die_'-"

"Actually that's what Derek said."

"-because it's just a stupid way to_- __huh_?"

Scott huffs, looking annoyed, "Yeah, the guy was quite adamant about you staying alive."

He tries to hide how he impressed he is by his friend knowing the meaning of the word _adamant_, because Scott actually _isn't_ a dumbass, he just seems like it most of the time, for he's a teenage boy and his head is filled with boobs, food and lacrosse. Stiles just grew up too quickly and spends most of his time worrying about every person he cares about in his life instead of admiring a girl's curves, dreaming about curly fries or worrying about their next game. He does all of those things as well, but they don't take up as much time for him as they do for Scott.

"So, the Big Bad actually cares about us meager humans, huh?" He nods, satisfied and feeling a warm glow wash over him, "Good to know." A thought hits him, "Oh, it's because of the deal, isn't it? I mean, he promised my dad he'd keep us safe, if he could."

Scott looks uncomfortable, as he grimaces a little, "Uh, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"He called it off?"

"Called what off?"

"The deal?"

"He called off the deal?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop answering my questions with questions!"

"They're not really questions, I'm just unsure of how you're going to react...?"

He pauses, pushing away the need to either slap his own forehead or Scott's _face_ because that conversation they just had was ridiculous and not in a _ha-ha_ way. "Well... I don't know how to react, really. Why did he call it off?"

"Because he tried to see you in the hospital and the Sheriff wasn't allowing it, was saying that if their deal still held than Derek would have to protect you from afar or something, and then Derek just called it off. He said he needs to be nearer now, if he's going to stop the witch from getting to you. And that before the Sheriff decides to find anything to hold against him, to lock him up, he should realize that Derek's the only thing standing between the witch and his son."

His heart decides to _react_ to that piece of information, in a way that leaves Stiles flushing in embarrassment and Scott raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Dude, what the hell, do you li-"

"Don't even say it, Scott. And _no_. Just... the guy's ridiculously attractive, that's all. It's kind of nice that he cares that much."

His friend makes a noise like he's been punched in the stomach, "Seriously? You've never been interested in guys before."

"No, I have, I just... haven't told anyone."

And this time Scott has every right to look that wounded, "But why, you know I don't mind right?"

"Of course I do, I've seen the way you're around Danny, I know you don't care, but... it was never a big thing y'know. Just... being _attracted_ but never doing anything, so I didn't think it was worth to mention."

"Okay, I get that but still, you never bothered to hide your attraction to Lydia."

He sighs and says in a no-nonsense tone, "That's not attraction, that's _love_. Which is why it's so hard for me to sit around and do _nothing _while you guys aren't even trying to get her back!"

"I told you we can't _do_ anything. The witch has power over us and Derek says that Lydia is totally untraceable now. Do _you_ have a plan? We'd like to have one, so if you can come up with one, go ahead."

He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, put me on the spot, why don't you."

"Well?"

"I don't know okay! I'm still trying to deal with the knowledge of me getting attacked by a witch because I'm a container of magic and _Peter_ put magic _in me_ and that sounds so wrong, man, I can't..."

"'Kay, just calm down, buddy, we'll figure this out," Scott's next to him, clasping his shoulder and he looks so sincere that Stiles can't help but believe him when he says, "Me and Derek, we're not going to let anything happen to you anymore. Now we know what she wants, who she's after? She's not gonna be able to snatch you again, I promise."

"Okay, yeah." He breathes a little easier, "Okay."

"Ready to go back to school?"

"_No_, more like ready to get the hell out of Beacon Hills, but yeah, okay. Let's go." There's still a lot of things he wants to ask Scott, like is he now considering the thought of joining Derek's pack, did Derek tell him anything about Isaac, or would he be okay with more wolves running around if it meant Stiles would be safer and he's surprised he hasn't heard anything about Argents during their little chat, usually Scott can't keep his mouth shut about Allison. Come to think of it, Scott seems a little off now as they drive back to the school, quiet and fidgety. Like he's hiding something.

_Still_ hiding something.

Stiles doesn't even ask because he doesn't want to hear Scott lying to him. And isn't this a fun friendship they have, lying to each other, keeping secrets from each other. This isn't how they usually are, this isn't how friendships work.

But he doesn't know how to fix it, not yet. Maybe when the whole witch thing has calmed down they can sit down and talk about all the things they've been hiding from each other. That would be great. Stiles would like that. He kind of enjoyed getting everything off his chest to his dad, he'd rather not keep secrets from anyone ever again.

Which is why when Derek texts him to ask about the next candidate for a wolf, he texts back '_Not helping you anymore. Not if I can't tell Scott_'.

He feels accomplished. Proud. He's standing up to the Big Bad.

But when he receives, '_The sooner I get a pack, the sooner you'll be safe. The witch might go after others to get to you. Like your dad._'

Low blow. Such a low blow.

Stiles almost breaks his screen as he punches in, '_You're such an asshole. Erica Reyes.'_

Only after classes end and they head for practice does he realize...

Does this mean Isaac is already a werewolf?

He sees Scott notice something in the air, and as he almost loses control of himself and panics right in front of Stiles, he thinks '_Oh, this is going to be bad._'

As he watches his friend plow through their teammates, he cringes and winces and can't help but scream silently in his head in frustration when the two boys finally meet, looking totally ridiculous to everyone who is not aware of the existence of werewolves.

And then another horrible thought hits him. If Isaac spills about Stiles' involvement, he's screwed.

* * *

"Can you be_lieve_ the nerve of him? Why did he think it was a good idea to turn _another _teenager!?"

Stiles really feels like bashing his head against the wheel. Repeatedly. But he's not going to do that because he cares about his baby, for one. And secondly, recent concussion - no bashing of the head recommended.

"How do you think it's like for him, being an Alpha and all alone, don't you think he _needs_ a pack? Remember, werewolves are stronger together."

He can feel Scott's outraged gaze burn into the side of his head as he pulls up to his friend's house.

"But he just _ruined_ Isaac's life! Did Isaac even know what he was getting into? Does he know about the hunters, how everyone he loves is now going to be in danger because of-"

"Newsflash, Scott, he doesn't _have_ anyone he loves. Not everyone has the great life you do, okay? He was all alone and he was getting beaten up by his dad so maybe he _needed_ this, needed a fresh start. And yes, Derek told him about everything, including the hunters." _I hope._

"...And how do you know that?"

Oops.

"Uh..."

"Stiles. Did you help Derek,_ without telling me_?" Scott's voice is rising towards the end of that question and Stiles knows his friend is really, truly mad at him right now. With good reason.

"Um."

"I can't believe you! I'm trying to think of your safety first and I find out you've been planning about forming a pack with Derek behind my back? Are you going to be a part of it? Is he going to give you the bite too?"

"No, Scott! Jesus, calm down!" He turns to his friend, a little mad as well because _what the hell_, "Don't you trust me at all? I helped him because I feel sorry for the guy, I mean he killed the last member of his family, do you get that? Have you any idea what that might feel like, because I sure don't! And I picked out Isaac for him because Isaac needed this, needs someone to care for him, needs to feel stronger because his life is shitty, okay? _So_ sorry, I actually have a heart!"

Scott's glaring at him, like he's betrayed him or something and it's ridiculous. Really. Stiles doesn't feel guilty at all.

"You should have just told me and explained it to me then. Yeah, okay, I didn't think of Derek's situation like that and I didn't know Isaac's life was so bad that didn't give you the right to go behind my back! We're best friends, man. We're supposed to tell each other these things."

"These things? Like the thing you're hiding from me right now?"

Scott's face scrunches up adorably and _no, Stiles, _your best friend is _not_ cute, don't let that face fool you otherwise, "I'm not hiding anything," But he can hear the hesitation, can see how suddenly Scott's avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah, dude. Get out of my car, because this keeping secrets thing? We're both doing it, so you're being kind of a hypocrite and I really can't stand it right now. So... just, get out."

"It's not a big deal, it's just one more problem and I didn't want to worry you, you have enough problems to deal with right now."

"And me helping Derek form a pack _shouldn't_ be a big deal, either. There are kids that actually _want_ the bite. Derek's not ruining lives here, Scott."

"Whatever," Scott replies oh-so-maturely. "Are you going to keep helping him?"

He stares at him in disbelief, before finally gesturing angrily, shouting, "Are you unable to grasp the concept of werewolves being stronger as a pack!? Derek doesn't have you and now he only has Isaac and do you remember how he's the one promising to keep me safe? How he's the one standing between me and the witch? He _kind of _needs a pack for that, Scott."

Scott looks like he's getting it but doesn't want to get it, doesn't want Stiles to be right so in the end he bails with a mumbled, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You're riding the bike to school, because this is a fight, we're having a fight and I'm not picking up your furry ass."

His friend turns around to make a ridiculous face at him that Stiles ignores as he pulls away from the curb, heading home.

Okay, yeah, he feels a little bit guilty.

* * *

"Here's your meds," his dad says as he places two pills and a glass of water on Stiles' desk. He waves his hand in thanks, head still bent over his Chemistry homework. He doesn't hear his dad leaving though, so he looks up.

The Sheriff just stands there for a second, squinting his eyes and making his usual '_I don't want to talk about this, I don't want to know this, I wish I didn't have to ask_' face.

"So did you hear from Scott or... or Derek?"

He doesn't really understand the hesitation, knows that his dad dislikes Derek but the guy obviously cares for Stiles' safety so that should be a plus, right?

"Uh, yeah. Scott told me what happened last night. The witch and Lydia and everything."

His dad nods, a long pause of silence stretching out between them before he finally sighs, "Just so you know, I'm not exactly happy with this and I think Derek shouldn't be this interested in a teenager but you're old enough to be responsible about these things and even though you've obviously become a disturbingly good liar, I trust you to know what's right and what boundaries you shouldn't cross when you're still underage."

Stiles is picking up _overprotective dad_ vibes all over that little speech and he's talking about _him and Derek_ like... like there actually is a him and Derek, which there isn't so he's just sitting there, gaping at the man ridiculously and his dad takes it the wrong way as he chuckles.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? I probably wouldn't have thought much of it, if I hadn't known for a fact that the guy swings both ways-" _Whoa, who, WHAT?_ "-but I _do_ know and I also occasionally checked your browser history-"

"Dad! That's an invasion of my privacy, what the hell!?"

"I stopped when you turned sixteen," and his dad is actually blushing, "trust me, I never expected to find such things on a _fourteen-year-old_'s computer."

"Oh God, _dad_, you're-"

"Just, be safe. And tell him to hide himself better if he's staying the night out there. And to not even try to come in. I have a gun, I know it's not going to kill him, which is why I'm actually going to use it if he tries anything under my roof, got it?"

He's actually speechless as he stares at his dad with wide eyes. Apparently, scaring Stiles into silence is good enough for the Sheriff as he nods like he's satisfied, glancing around the room awkwardly before finally turning around and leaving, closing the door behind him.

"I- Did- _What_!?"

His phone vibrates and he taps the screen to find a new text. From Derek.

_Calm down, your heart's so loud I can't hear anything else._

He remembers what his father had just said. _"-if he's staying the night out there-"_

Stiles runs to his window, already calling Derek as he peeks out, just in time to see a figure move in the darkness and the white light of a phone casting a glow over Derek's stupid face before he answers.

"What?"

"You're actually there, in the garden, under my window." Derek doesn't answer and Stiles can _feel_ the intense stare on him. He squeaks, "Oh my God, do you know how creepy this is? And what the fuck, my father _knows_ you're here, creeping around and he's allowing you!? I totally woke up in an alternate universe, didn't I? Where my dad thinks we're dating, Scott is actually angry with me and you're all caring and protective, oh God, am I in a coma? I'm in a-"

"_Stiles_." Derek sounds strained. Stiles squints and he thinks he can see the other's shoulders _shaking_.

"Are you laughing at me right now? Are you really that cruel? Who am I kidding, of course you are."

"Yes." And that's all from Derek Hale. What a wordsmith.

Stiles rolls his eyes, leaning a hand on the window sill as he takes the situation in, "So you're going to stay there?"

"Yup."

"All night?"

"Most of it."

"Why?"

Derek sighs, the sound deafening through the phone, "The witch said she's going to stay away for a week but it'd be stupid to take her word for it, wouldn't it?"

"Um, right."

"I'm not letting her take you away again." Derek says it so simply, like it's a fact and not a promise and it makes Stiles' heart react again in such an _obvious_ way, _God_. He hears a huff of breath.

"You're laughing at me again, aren't you?"

"...A little."

"You're mean."

"You're ridiculous."

Stiles is smiling. Their banter has kind of lost its usual violent and angry edge and it's nice, especially now that he's fighting with Scott.

"How's Isaac by the way?"

"He's... adjusting. He's doing well though." He hears Derek pause and peeks out again to see him hide under the tree's shade, leaning against the trunk. "You chose well," he says quietly. Stiles shivers because it sounds more than a praise, it sounds _intimate_. He pushes that thought away quickly, afraid of where it might lead. "Whatever you knew of his life at home... It was actually even worse."

He blinks at the sympathy he hears in the other's voice, "It was?"

"He'll tell you if he's ready."

"So the deal is completely off now? Stiles is allowed to hang out with all the werewolves again, not just Scott?"

"Just until the witch is dealt with."

"Oh." And he knows he sounds stupidly disappointed but he can't help it, it feels like they're actually _friends_ when they're talking like this, quietly, through the phone. So he might have a stupid fantasy in his head about running with the wolves, about being part of the pack that's starting to form because Isaac liked him, Derek doesn't seem to hate him anymore and if Scott would get his head around the fact that he's a werewolf and he'll always be a werewolf and that he _needs_ a pack, then there'd be all the more reason to include Stiles in their group. But it doesn't seem like that's happening.

Before Derek can say anything, he changes the topic, "So... wanna tell me why my dad is so sure that we're um, _together_? And... what did he mean by knowing for a fact that you swing both ways?"

For a long moment there's only silence and then a huff of breath again before, "Good night, Stiles." And Derek hangs up.

"Rude," he says, certain that the other can still hear him. "I _am_ going to find out the answer to that, you know." He sees no reaction from the figure hiding in the shadows and sighs, "You gonna be fine for the night? Don't want anything?" Nothing. "Water? Snacks? ...Some kibble?" He sees Derek shift a little and grins, "You are my personal guard dog after all." And oh, wow, there are red eyes glaring at him from the darkness and doesn't that bring back memories. He jumps back from the window, a little alarmed. But he forces himself to calm down because this is Derek, not Peter. He's safe with Derek.

It takes him a moment but he manages to calm down and when he's peeking out again he sees that Derek's come out into the moonlight, eyes normal and _human_ as he stares up at him. Stiles nods, a little shaky but okay and he says so, "I'm fine." Derek gives him one last good stare before he backs into the shadows again.

Stiles finally gets prepared for bed, giving up on homework for the night. He'll finish it in the morning, when his mind isn't _reeling_ over the closeness he feels to Derek right now. It's only as he's in bed, about to fall asleep that he realizes he hasn't had any hallucinations or heard Peter's voice all day and maybe something is finally going right for him for once. Maybe the crazy passed and it didn't have anything to do with the _connection _that they apparently have. Scott hadn't been specific because he didn't understand it himself either. Just that Peter had formed a bond with Stiles when he had given the magic to him, and that bond might just bring him back.

He has a sudden rush as a worrying thought passes through his head. What if Derek's actually outside to make sure _Stiles_ doesn't do anything stupid during the night, like _bring back a dead person_.

What if he's the danger in this scenario?

After reaching that conclusion, it takes him a while to fall asleep.

* * *

tbc.

**As an apology** for my absence, here's a long chapter with developing Sterek. I hope you liked? Don't be afraid to let me know if you did! :D


	10. Get Through The Day and Breathe

**a/b; important**: sorry for the delay. life is crap right now.

am also totally playing around with the timeline here. since it _is_ a s2!au, i hope you don't mind.

_also_, can't promise regular updates anymore as you might have guessed considering the pauses in between the last few chapters. so if that bothers you, i hope you return to read the full story when it's finally finished and i look forward to hearing your thoughts then :)

one more thing, as i've re-read and re-read and re-read again, this story has started to frustrate me. i see some ooc-ness, i see some plot holes and frankly i don't think i'm truly writing stiles like i want to. i'll be trying to fix this as i go a long, but i can't promise anything and i just hope you manage to enjoy this story as it is - a fanfiction about an AU situation in the TW!Universe. it's not a character study, not a perfect sterek characterisation, i'm sure and the plot is not some majorly awesome, intricate web of things all coming together.

my confidence about this author's note is dropping as i'm writing this, so i better stop.

just know, that... life is _seriously_ crap right now, so that's where this pity-party mood is coming from. i apologize.

* * *

Get Through the Day and Breathe

* * *

Tuesdays are horrible. They're long, boring and have a gym class at the end, followed by lacrosse. He really was not ready for a Tuesday, Stiles thinks as he rubs his temples in Harris' class. The headache is mild but annoying, and he feels faintly nauseous. He's been ignoring Scott and Scott has been ignoring him, although the concerned puppy looks he keeps throwing Stiles' way makes him feel warmed that the guy still worries about him even when they're fighting.

Isaac showed up at school in a new wardrobe that definitely caught Stiles' attention, because in his mind leather looks good on almost everyone, but considering the lack of response from everyone else he figures Isaac's done his entrance before. Perhaps yesterday, although Stiles didn't notice any leather jackets then but he _had _been slightly preoccupied thinking about the witch, Lydia's apparent insanity and him keeping Peter from being completely dead. It's a lot to take in for a sixteen-year-old, even if they are as brilliant as Stiles.

Right now, however, he just wants Harris to stop talking, Scott to stop fidgeting next to him and Isaac to stop _staring _at him. He turns around to look over his shoulder and yup, there he is with his curly hair, off-puttingly charming face and eyes completely fixated on Stiles. When their eyes meet, Isaac lifts a hand from under the table, waving his phone and gesturing at Stiles meaningfully. He gets the hint and warily glancing at Harris' back as the man writes something on the board, he bends down to take out his phone from his bag.

He frowns at the text from Isaac.

_are you okay? do you need to go home?_

Since when does everyone care so much about Stiles' welfare? Not that he isn't enjoying it, he totally is, but it seems rather... excessive.

_Fine, just a headache. Nope, don't want to miss any more classes._

Isaac doesn't seem satisfied by the reply but nods a little anyway to show he understands.

All of this is getting a little weird. Stiles is deciding whether to freak out or enjoy this while it lasts.

Needless to say, by the end of Chemistry, he's chosen to do the latter.

* * *

Lunch is uncomfortable and awkward. Stiles can't really go and sit next to Scott considering their fight, he can't really sit anywhere by himself because all the tables are already taken and so he finally chooses the least embarrassing option and plunks himself down in front of Boyd, the ultimate loner.

He gets a hard stare from the boy and looks up from his lunch (greasy food, yum - at least his appetite is back) to make an expectant face and shrug, as if to say '_you got a problem_?'. He'd never actually say it aloud, not to Boyd. The guy could probably beat up the whole lacrosse team... well, everyone except for the wolf-y members.

"What do you want?"

He hears a hint of bitterness in the other's tone and draws back his sarcasm, figuring it wouldn't be a welcome addition to this conversation, "Um, I'm just eating my lunch, dude." He stuffs his mouth full of fries to further emphasize his point, gesturing at his lunch tray. Boyd doesn't seem angry or annoyed, just... wary. That's okay, Stiles can just eat his food in silence and then quickly get out of there. He sets out to do just that when a leather-clad figure sits down next to him.

"Uh-" He starts but can't get another word out because _Isaac's_ speaking.

"How's your head?"

The boy doesn't even have any lunch, he's just sitting there, expecting an answer while Boyd stares at them, obviously completely freaked out right now.

"It's fine," Stiles mumbles, uncomfortable.

"Okay," Isaac replies, nods to himself and then proceeds to just _sit _there, staring at the table in silence as Stiles and Boyd try to enjoy their lunch. The silence is horrific.

A faint buzzing reaches his ears and he grabs at his bag, which is next to him, pulling out his phone. He's surprised to see it's from Scott.

_y is isaac with u _

He gapes at the jealous text before looking over his shoulder to see Scott sitting with some of their teammates, glaring at Isaac's back with unreasonable hatred in his eyes.

Stiles then turns back to Isaac who is already facing him, bewildered.

"Dude, you're making this so much worse."

The other looks surprised and a little hurt which makes Stiles regret his words because really, this isn't the guy's fault at all. This is Scott's fault, because he doesn't know when to stop being stubborn and just accept the fact that he's a werewolf and that he's going to have to learn to trust other werewolves instead of this attitude he's currently having towards Derek and anything Derek-related. Isaac, as Derek's newest pack member, sadly falls into the latter category.

"What?" Isaac asks. Boyd has obviously had enough as he sighs _loudly _before gathering his things and leaving them to it.

"Me and Scott kinda had a fight about you and now by sitting here with me, you're making it worse. Not that it's your fault or anything!"

Isaac doesn't look comforted by that last bit. "You guys had a fight about me?"

"Well," Stiles cringes and lowers his voice, "The guy's not really happy about there being another werewolf in town."

"But _he's_ a werewolf too."

"Well, yes, but-" He gets another text and holds up a finger as a gesture for Isaac to wait a moment.

_stop talking to him bout us!_

Oh, Stiles can so imagine that frustrated shout that Scott likes to do when he's angry.

"Aaaaand he can hear every word we say, lovely."

"Do you want me to go?"

His heart breaks a little at how sad Isaac looks and how badly the other is trying to _not_ let his feelings show.

Stiles sighs, "No, you can stay... Just, let's not talk about Scott, okay?"

Isaac nods readily.

He starts eating again, asking with his mouth full, "Why aren't you eating anything?"

"'M not hungry."

He sees how Isaac is eyeing his food and his chewing slows. He doesn't know why the other has no food but it's obvious the guy's craving for a little snack so he pushes his tray over a little.

"Have at it," he gestures kindly, all the while already missing the fries he just abandoned.

"Thanks!" Isaac doesn't hesitate to dig in.

"Seems like I gotta talk to Derek about keeping his pups fed, huh?"

Isaac doesn't reply, too busy inhaling the rest of Stiles' lunch. He sips at juice absentmindedly, staring at Isaac's cheekbones and jawline and-

He decides to give Scott something else to focus on, suddenly sending a text.

_I think I'm into werewolves now._

He hears someone spit out his drink before choking. He laughs a little to himself before quickly grimacing in disgust and sending another text.

_Not you, tho. Never you, ugh, ew._

Lunch is over and they're back in class when Scott sends a paper note flying towards Stiles' desk.

_you suck. you'd be lucky to have me._

He grins at his buddy, happy when Scott smiles back. Things still aren't right between them but hey, they're dealing with it in their own way.

* * *

In the middle of his last class before gym, Stiles is asked to go to the principal's office. He gets a '_what the hell_' look from Scott and he returns the sentiment because he has no idea what this is about. Things get even more confusing when he arrives and is greeted by a stranger.

"Stilinski? Come on in, son," the old man says, his smile friendly and welcoming.

"Uh, you're not the principal," he feels the need to point out.

The man chuckles_, _"Ah, it seems the news doesn't spread as fast as I hoped. My name is Gerard Argent, I'm the _new_ principal."

Stiles kind of stares for a while before his head jerks to the side uncomfortably, "Um, any relation to Allison?"

"Why yes," for a moment there's a _glint_ in the other's eyes before Gerard smiles again, "Ah, you must be my granddaughter's classmate?"

"Ah, yes. Yes. Classmate, yup." He clears his throat uncomfortably, already plotting Scott's demise in his head because this is so obviously the _thing_ the other refused to tell him about. If Scott went to the funeral like he said and if this is Allison's grandfather, then he obviously saw the man and came to the same eerie conclusion that Stiles just did - Argent's are getting reinforcements. Maybe they feel vengeful after Kate's death, maybe they just feel threatened. Either way, Stiles, as a member of Team Wolf, feels very much like he's walking into his doom as he enters the office.

He sits down at the chair the principal gestures at and starts fidgeting as the man sits down at his desk.

"I hope you're not afraid of me. I didn't ask for you to come here because you did something wrong, don't worry."

Stiles shifts in his seat, "So why _am_ I here? Sir," he adds quickly, straightening up because he's actually acting like he's guilty of something and that's a big no-no. He can see Gerard's calculating gaze and shudders a little. It reminds him of Chris Argent and how people seem to have a weird habit of bouncing Stiles against hard surfaces these days. He hopes the old man won't be following the others' example because that would be _embarrassing_. Getting manhandled by what, a ninety-year-old?

"Well, it's not every day that a student gets into a car crash, then disappears from the hospital only to end up back there a few hours later... And now you're already attending classes and I just wanted to make sure that you're aware you're allowed to take a couple more days to rest. You shouldn't push yourself too hard."

That smile is ringing all kinds of alarm bells in Stiles' head. He flashes back a strained smile of his own.

"No, it's fine. I don't want my grades to drop and I'm fine, I really am."

"Is it true you have no memory of those few hours?"

This is getting a little creepy, mister.

"Uh, yeah. They called it a fugue state."

"And Lydia Martin, you don't recall her leaving with you?"

"Nope."

"Interesting," Gerard says to himself, humming in thought.

What's interesting is how much this seems like an interrogation.

The principal finally continues, smiling as he stands up again, "Well, if you're sure you're fine?"

"Yes, sir. Can I go back to class now?"

_Please_, for the love of everything good and nice...

"I do enjoy it when students are keen to attend their classes. Of course you can. If at any moment you feel unwell, though, just go on straight to the infirmary. The nurse is aware of your situation."

He nods readily before saying his goodbyes and escaping that room. When he's out in the hallway, he sags against the wall, relieved.

"The new principal is that tense, huh?"

He shouts in surprise, blinking his wide eyes at the boy sitting across the hall, who's staring right back in amusement.

"What?" Stiles asks eloquently.

"That new principal. He scared you that much?" The boy asks, grinning as he stands up, sliding his hands into his pockets. Stiles can't help but notice that the guy's kind of cute.

"Um, not really, just... a tense conversation, I guess..." He nods way too many times before waving awkwardly, "Right. See ya!" _Nevermind that I have no idea who the hell you are._

"Hey, wait! You're Stilinski, right?"

He flails a little as he turns around, "Uh, yeah? Everybody calls me Stiles, though."

The other smiles bashfully and Stiles goes a little weak at the knees.

"Yeah, I know... I just didn't know if you wanted me to call you that as well... I'm glad you do, though."

This conversation is heading nowhere.

His quota for _weird_ is kind of filling up like _woah_ today.

"Um-"

"So, I'll see you around, yeah?"

The guy looks hopeful, _eager_ and a little too intense for Stiles' comfort. He can only take that kind of intensity from Derek because well, that's just how Derek interacts but this kind of attention seems strange and off-putting. Although, he's fairly certain he might be getting hit on, which totally erases that last comment, because Stiles _never_ gets hit on.

He nods, smiles less awkwardly and turns around to leave again. He comes to a sudden stop and swivels, "Hey, I didn't catch your-" He stares at the empty hallway, "...name."

It takes him a moment to figure the guy probably entered Argent's office already and shrugs as he heads on back to class, deciding to overlook the fact how he didn't hear a door open or shut and how _quickly_ the guy had disappeared. Irrelevant.

What's important is, _Stiles most definitely just got hit on_.

* * *

"_How_ could you not tell me that?"

"You got hit on!?"

Stiles presses his lips together into a hard line as he screams internally, "Focusing on the wrong thing, Scott!"

They're in the changing rooms, getting ready for gym and Stiles just finished telling Scott about Gerard's odd _concern. _And Scott can't get over the fact that some random dude was interested in Stiles. He can't decide if it's pride or concern he sees in the other's eyes so really, it's best if they concentrate on the most worrying bit of his day.

"I... You didn't really have to know, I mean, I thought you were probably never going to bump into him or something... How was I supposed to know that he'd become the principal!?"

"Dude, considering our luck so far, we _always_ bump into the people we don't want to bump into. That's probably the one consistent thing in our lives."

Scott shrugs, closing his locker and waiting for Stiles to finish changing, "You seriously have a lot on your mind right now, and I know you're gonna worry about me and who knows maybe even Derek now that there are even more hunters in town and I just... wanted to save you from that."

Oh _God_, the puppy eyes. Will Stiles ever be able to resist them?

"_Fine_, I get it. Next time don't try to hide anything, though. I'll probably find out eventually anyway and then I'll just be mad at you."

Scott nods eagerly, making Stiles sigh. He closes his own locker as well and they head for the gym. Stiles ignores the quick look Isaac sends his way.

"Also, you need to get over this _Derek's the enemy_ thing you have."

At least Scott doesn't immediately start arguing with him again - improvement.

The guy finally sighs, "I just don't like him."

"Why? He's actually being nice right now."

That gets a _look_ from Scott and Stiles hesitates, "What?"

"_Nice_. To you!?"

"...Well, as nice as Derek can probably be. And yeah, to me. Why?"

Scott makes a face that expresses how uncomfortable he is about this subject.

"I just... I heard the Sheriff and Derek talking at the hospital and... I thought your dad just came to the wrong conclusion and Derek didn't bother to correct it but... is it true?"

It takes Stiles a moment to get what Scott's hinting at. Then he gapes and groans in embarrassment, "Oh my _God_, not you too!"

Scott perks up, "That means it's not, right?"

"Jesus, _no_. Me and Derek, we're- no, just _no_, okay?"

The other boy bobs his head excitedly, "Yeah, no, you have _no _idea how relieved I am to hear you say that!"

Stiles rolls his eyes.

Just before they head towards the stupid wall they're about to climb, right in front of everyone, _yay_, Stiles gets hit with a thought.

"You actually think I'm attractive enough to bag a guy like Derek?"

They happen to be standing behind Danny who actually turns around to stare at Stiles in surprise. Scott makes a choked sound and Stiles just gapes like he usually does_._

"_What!?_ It was a serious question!"

* * *

This isn't the first time Erica has had a seizure in front of her classmates, in front of _Stiles_. But it is the first time after he gave her name to Derek. He's pretty sure the bite can cure her, can help her, can give her a new life just like Isaac got. He doesn't know about her home life, is not sure what she'll feel about belonging into a pack but he hopes Derek will explain everything clearly, so Erica is fully aware of what she's getting into and won't let her desire to get rid of her epilepsy cloud her mind. Although as he observes the seizure, thinks about how the girl was so desperate to climb to the top, to prove that she's still capable of achieving something, he can't help but think Erica will agree to _anything _just to feel powerful, strong.

He hopes he isn't going to regret this, he really does, as he texts Derek before lacrosse practice, telling him Erica will be at the hospital. Not exactly a discreet place but he's sure there'll be a moment when she'll be alone and that's better than approaching her near the school or her home. He gulps down a painkiller, hoping it will stop the pounding in his head that's just grown stronger and heads to the field, hoping he won't get bruised today. Perhaps the coach will show him mercy and will have them just running around, doing exercises. Stiles enjoys that. He doesn't enjoy Jackson using every chance to bump into him, to pull him to the ground. He's afraid, now that Jackson's a werewolf, that he won't know his strength and will accidentally _break_ Stiles.

He remembers how Derek had pretty much avoided talking about Jackson and realizes the guy's not in the pack either. He feels sorry for Derek, he really does. He thinks Scott and Jackson maybe don't _understand_ the guy and his motives that much but Stiles does a bit, now that he's thought through everything he knows about the Hales, the Argents and Derek's situation. He knows what loneliness feels like, how it can close in on you and make you do stupid things just so you won't have to feel alone anymore.

Stiles can't help but think to himself afterwards, I_ wouldn't mind being in a pack._

* * *

After school he gets home without any incidents and reassures his dad who called mere seconds after Stiles entered the house to make sure he's okay. The night is uneventful for _him_ but as he later finds out, there was plenty of things going on at Beacon Hills.

Like Erica getting turned, right there in the hospital. He got a terse text from Derek, saying Stiles made another good choice and that he was now expecting a third name. He couldn't really focus on that because two hours later _shit got real_.

At first it was another phone call from his dad, this time to make sure that Stiles is still at home, is still safe. Apparently, after a robbing a corpse of it's liver, an Omega werewolf now went after a person in a friggin' ambulance. Yeah, _an Omega werewolf_. Another thing his best friend, his current bodyguard and even his _dad_ had forgot to mention. When he questioned it, the Sheriff actually said '_Oops__,_' and then promptly apologized but ruined it by trying to justify the lying and then of course when Stiles dared to bring up the subject of not speaking the truth or withholding the truth - his dad brought up Stiles hiding his part in the whole werewolf business... Let's just say the phone call ended badly and they would no doubt have another talk about secrets and trust when the Sheriff finally got home.

_If_ he got home. Needless to say, after finding out a total stranger was running around, clawing out human body parts from _human bodies_, Stiles got a little freaked out and tried to contact Derek. Who didn't answer, neither to his texts or to his calls. So he tried Scott, who thankfully actually picked up the phone for once.

Scott understood his panic right away and promised he would go look for this guy, swore to make sure Stiles' dad was safe. Sometimes he just really loves his best friend, you know?

And then of course about an hour of pacing, nervous snacking and empty staring later, Scott climbs through Stiles' window and this time he's the one who has to calm his buddy down because the guy looks like he just saw a ghost.

"What the hell happened? Did you find him?" He helps his buddy sit down on the bed, hovering for a second before sitting next to him, worried. Before Scott can reply though, he gets a text and mutters a curt apology as he fishes his phone out of his pockets. He takes in the words he sees on his screen, uncertain of how to react.

_Need to check on Erica, will come by later._

"Um, Scott... before we get into your current situation _why _is Derek saying that he'll come by later?" Unless it's to play a guard dog under his window again. Does Scott know about that? His dad knew about the Omega, as did Scott - both heard it from Derek. So who knows what else Derek has told them. He does wonder why the guy is suddenly willingly sharing information when usually he's quite tight-lipped. And _why_ is everyone treating Stiles like some fragile damsel in distress who can handle one problem at a time - he did great during the _Peter as The Psychopathic Alpha_ arc of their lives, at least Stiles thinks so.

"I think he wants to talk to you about the witch thing... he didn't get to before because your dad was home," Scott replies quickly before turning to Stiles, frantic. "What the hell am I gonna do? Allison's grandfather just sliced a werewolf in half right there before my eyes, I mean... What should I do? Should I tell her?"

"Whoa, whoa, Gerard did what? Did he see you? Does he know you're a werewolf too? And it was the Omega who attacked the man in the ambulance, right? Not someone else?"

"No, Derek pulled me away. I wanted to help the guy, but he wouldn't let me and I don't know how to feel about that... And of course it was the Omega, who else would it be? Are you worried about Isaac right now?" Scott makes a face at Stiles, who hits him in the shoulder for it.

"Dude, of course I'm worried and you should be too! Isaac's just a kid like us and he hasn't hurt anybody!"

"The Omega didn't hurt anybody either! At least that's what he said... He swore that the guy was dead already and before that he dug up a grave... And still, Gerard killed him." Scott's eyes go wide again as he stares at the floor.

"Oh. But, isn't that like, against their code?"

"He didn't seem to care much for the code. He full on announced war against werewolves right there, man."

"War?"

"Basically."

Stiles swallows, understanding completely why Scott is freaked out now, "As in, they want to kill all the werewolves in town... They know about Derek, but... Do they know about you? Do you think Allison's dad has revealed your identity?"

"No, I don't think so. And I don't think he will. It's weird but he... he seemed like he wasn't happy about Gerard's actions either."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. He's kind of the 'we stick to the code' type of guy. I mean when I told him about Kate, he kind of understood what needed to be done."

"Yeah..." Scott leaned back on hands, sighing as his body relaxed a little, "I just... There's really no one I can go to about this stuff, and my _mom_. What if she finds out?"

"Dude, _my_ dad knows and he's been pretty cool about it so far." He hesitates, remembering a few conversations between him and the Sheriff, "Okay, so there was a moment when he wanted me to be completely separated from any kind of werewolves, including you but he quickly saw reason and got over that! And I think if Gerard's gonna come after you then your mom should _really_ know what's up. I think it's imperative that she know why she shouldn't trust our new _principle_."

Scott doesn't speak for a while, face all scrunched up and Stiles lets him think for a moment before growing restless and hitting the other on the shoulder again.

"I know, I know, okay!" Scott bursts out, shoving Stiles in retaliation. "For now, I think I'll just concentrate on Gerard _not_ finding out about me."

"What about Isaac?"

"And Erica, right?"

His best friend is giving him a look that screams how much he considers Stiles to be a traitor right now. He groans loudly, "Derek told you about that too!? What, did someone drop veritaserum into the guy's drink or what?"

"Veritaserum?"

"A truth serum, never mind, it's a Harry Potter reference- The point _is_, why did he tell you?"

"I don't know? He keeps telling me how I'm supposed to join his pack and stuff so I guess he's keeping me informed of my supposed packmates?" Scott pushes himself forward to place his elbows on his knees and drop his chin onto one of his hands, obviously sulking. "I don't want Derek to be my Alpha."

"Dude, he's _not that bad_," he stresses, growing tired of this same old tune.

"Says the guy, who a few weeks earlier didn't care at all whether Derek lived or died!"

"I still don't care that much, to be honest, I mean, he _is_ a dick. But if you take into consideration the fact that he's _protecting_ me, even though killing me or handing me over to the witch would solve all the problems, then you kind of start to see that he has his uses, you know? Plus, try to see things from his point of view. It must have sucked to come back to his hometown, to the house his whole family burned alive in, only to find out that his sister was killed, that he's all alone and then the only other werewolf in town wants nothing to do with werewolves and then his own uncle goes crazy and Derek has to put him down-"

"Okay, okay! I get your point, already!"

So Stiles might have gotten a little too into his tirade. It happens.

"I'm... gonna go home. My mom will be home soon, she's not working the night shift or the double shift for once..."

"Just, hang in there, buddy. We'll think of what to do when the time comes, yeah?"

Scott smiles slowly, "Like we always do?"

They both stand up and Stiles jerks his head in agreement, "Yeah, exactly."

* * *

Once Stiles is alone again, he falls back onto his bed and just stares at the ceiling for a while, trying to figure out what they should do now. Or even, what _can_ they do? Since this is basically a private fight between the hunters and the werewolves, getting help from outsiders is not an option and then insert a witch out for a goddamn spark within Stiles that apparently might very well bring Peter Hale back into life - things just keep getting more complicated and Stiles may be an awesome best friend and a seemingly smart guy who has mostly done good choices so far, but he's still only sixteen years old and he would like his only trouble to be getting Lydia Martin to notice him. Like the good old days.

God, _Lydia_. Stiles has hardly even thought of her part in all of this. He wonders if that makes him a bad person-

Something hits his window. He lifts his head and stares, wide-eyed but when nothing happens he relaxes.

He _sees_ what looks like a pebble hit his window. He scrambles up but stops himself from going over. It could be Derek but since when does the man throw _pebbles_ against peoples' windows like a love struck teenager. But if it's not Derek then who else but Scott would visit Stiles at this time of the night - and Scott just left. And once again, Scott doesn't throw pebbles either. Really, who does anymore?_  
_

Stiles finally tells himself to man up, complete with all kinds of hand motions and head shaking before he peeks out to see...

The dude from the hallway. _The _dude. The one who Stiles is pretty sure flirted with him. And the flirting was okay, as was the smiling and intense staring he guesses but _this_? This is creepy and border-lining on stalker-ish. Stiles doesn't even know the guy's name and yet there he is, in his garden, staring up at Stiles- Oh Christ, he's officially creeped out. He steps away from the window and winces when another pebble hits the glass, this time a little more forcefully.

A little annoyed and frightened but feeling stubborn he sits at his desk and resolutely goes nowhere near the window, waiting for the guy to leave. Or perhaps waiting for Derek to get the hell over there.

He falls asleep around two and wakes up to his dad's knock on the door.

"Time to wake up, buddy! Come on downstairs, we gotta talk."

He sluggishly takes in his disheveled state, his dad's receding footsteps and feels the need to smack his head against the desk.

But due to the headache that he can already feel building up, he doesn't give into that need and instead goes to shower.

He also tells himself to not worry that Derek apparently didn't show up last night. A sixteen-year-old boy has his limits, he can't worry over every-friggin-one so he'll stick to Scott and his dad, as usual.

Then Stiles sees the text sent to him about three in the morning and can't keep himself from worrying any longer.

_Something's wrong with Erica. I'll talk to you tomorrow._

It suddenly hits him that he never really considered the teenagers rejecting the bite and _dying_. Sure, he _thought_ about it, even questioned Derek on it at first but the guy seemed certain of the fact that the bite will definitely work if the receiver is young and willing.

Derek, of course, could have been lying. He also realizes he'll probably have to apologize to Scott because even though he has a feeling the other hadn't thought of this either and was mostly against the whole pack idea because of his dislike towards Derek - nevertheless, in the end, he had a point.

Scott was right for once.

_Oh God, is the world ending?_

He throws his mobile onto his bed and tries to breathe regularly like a normal person. When his dad shouts for him to hurry up, he groans and burrows his face into his hands.

Nothing is _fine_ anymore, nothing is okay.

Stiles really doesn't know how to deal with this. And frankly, he doesn't want to. Could someone else try to fix everything? Just this once, he doesn't want to be the guy who frantically runs around and panics as he tries to _solve_ it, to make it all okay again. He did it with mom, he did it when people first started dying and this time, he doesn't have it in him anymore. And that scares him, because that's not like him at all.

...Could someone fix _him_?


End file.
